#I woke up shaking so bad my teeth were chattering

[pissjesus]

So high strung about going to bed cuz last night I woke up 4 times and every time I fell back to sleep I had a nightmare about being late for work and getting ready only to have this one scary thing happen and then wake up within the dream and be late for work and get ready and the scary thing happens and etc. This happened like every hour. I had 5 mg of melatonin in my system and mild heartburn from laying on my back I’m so scared of what weed would do to me

[hispg]

Love can't wait

Pairings: r2! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: Someone's horny in the middle of the night, and you'll have to take care of his 'problem'.

Wc: 2.2k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, making out, oral (f receiving), sloppy sex, whiny Leon.

An: Last week was a real mess. My birthday, I ended up being sick all week, I'm slowly recovering. And to make matters worse, I'm in my exam week💀

My brain is melting😭 Tomorrow I promise to answer the comments and asks🤝

I've only just managed to post, I had this draft ready and thought I should post it so I wouldn't run out of things to post. I didn't read it, so sorry for any mistakes.

"Baby, please..." Leon whimpered in your ear, hugging you from behind, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your neck.

He was grabbing you by the hips, his erection bumping against your ass as you tried to sleep, which was impossible with you being humped by the man behind you.

He'd been awake for a while, desperate to fuck you, who knows why he woke up with his cock hard in the middle of the night. Jerking off wasn't enough, he needed you.

"Leon.... Tomorrow..." You mumble, trying to bury your head in the pillow.

You heard him protest in a whimper, pressing his erection hard against you, making you moan softly into the pillow, and he grunted at the contact. He wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Love...." He pleaded, giving your jaw a light bite, not wasting a second and promptly sliding his hand under your clothes, caressing your belly, feeling your skin slide under his fingers.

His other hand went behind your neck, up to the back of your head where he began to massage, bringing his lips to your cheeks, giving wet kisses all over your face.

"Please..." He whispered, not caring if he sounded desperate or not, he just wanted you, it was the only thing on his mind.

You didn't even have time to answer, he was quick enough to move his hand down to your ass, opening your ass cheeks and pressing his erection in the middle, rubbing back and forth.

He was so needy that you could already feel him leaking through his underwear, his hoarse, whimpering voice echoing in your ears. Just by the state he was in, you were already starting to feel wet.

"You feel so good..." He whispered, moving against you harder, eliciting several low moans from you.

You could feel his nails digging into your soft flesh, holding your ass open for him to rub against you.

He was drooling on you, his kisses on your neck becoming more and more desperate, his tongue coming out of his mouth to lick the whole length of your skin, his body shaking with precipitation.

If you didn't let him do what he wanted to you, he'd certainly be able to cum in his pants.

"I need you so much..." He whispers, bringing his hand up to your breasts, gently caressing them up until then.

"Leon... Mhm..." You murmured in a somewhat sleepy voice, shifting a little in bed.

He whimpered in your ear, pushing you down a little further, grinding against you with a little more vigor, and it wasn't long before he had your nipple between his fingers, rolling it between his digits.

"I need to fuck you... I want it so bad it hurts." He purred, giving your nipple a vicious tug, and the unexpected action made you gasp.

Seeing that he wouldn't get any response from you at this point, he quickly turned you over on the bed, laying you on your back.

Before you could protest, he captured your lips in a languid kiss, his lips crashing against yours in a primal way, as if he couldn't help himself.

He kissed you so hard that at one point you could feel his teeth chattering against yours, he kissed you in such a sloppy, desperate way. Just as he began to press his erection into the mattress, wanting to relieve himself in some way.

You were so trapped at this point that at some point you just started moaning against each other, as if the kissing session was all you needed to go over the edge.

Almost painfully, the two of you broke apart, breathing heavily and quickly, almost out of breath from the intensity of your kisses.

When he looked at you, seeing your cheeks so red, the way your chest rose and fell with every heavy breath you took. Oh, and those lips, the way you looked at him so slyly like that.

At the same moment he felt his cock throbbing inside the confines of his pants. As if it were a last desperate act, he stuck his face between your breasts, sticking his tongue out in a clumsy way, sucking on your nipple as if it were the last thing he was going to do.

You moaned against the pillow, pushing his head against your breast. He grunted at the sudden contact, sucking on you desperately.

Despite not wanting it at first, you found yourself soaking wet now, grinding your pussy against his thigh that was between your legs, and he grinned like a bastard when he saw the state you were in.

"Mhm.... I want to fuck you..." He whispers, taking his mouth off your breast, searching for air, and he could already see the imprint of his lips around your breast.

You smiled slyly, rubbing your wetness against him hard, and in response he put a wide palm on your chest, lowering his face so that he could kiss you, leaving no part of your face untouched.

"Can I taste you? Please, please." He pleaded in a sly voice, tugging on your nipples once more, his mouth kissing you wetly and incessantly all over your face.

Fuck, how could you say no when he was asking so nicely?

When he saw you nod, Leon gave you a sly smile, turning you over so that you lay on your back properly, lifting your clothes to gain access to your thighs.

Once he had your legs open, he licked his lips, looking at your pussy which was already wet and waiting for him. In the blink of an eye he buried his face in your folds, sticking his tongue out and licking the entire length of your flesh, lapping at your skin like a hungry man, making loud, impure slurping sounds.

You could feel his nose hitting your clit every time he stuck his tongue into your needy hole, his hot muscle moving in and out in an incessant manner. His hands gripped your thighs in a firm way, leaving red marks from his fingers, from how hard he was holding you.

"So good, mhmm, you're so hot..." He murmurs against your slit, giving you an awkward smile, then going back to licking you all over again.

You were so red, your cheeks burning as you squirmed on the bed, your lips parted as you moaned, your hips moving back and forth, searching for more friction. Leon groaned when he felt your hand on his blond strands, which you took advantage of to push him against you, making him sink into your heat.

"Fuck-" You whimper, tugging at his hair, and he lets out a low murmur in response, giving your clit a hard suck, then sinking his tongue into your hole once more.

His cock was aching and throbbing in his pants, and he couldn't help himself, unconsciously humping the bed, eating you out desperately, wanting to taste your sweetness again and again.

You soon began to feel that warm sensation forming in the pit of your stomach, your mind becoming more and more blurred with each caress of his tongue. Your furrows running down his chin, his mouth completely moist from the result of your arousal.

"Cum, cum, baby, cum on my tongue." He whispers, working tirelessly on your cunt, with no intention of stopping.

And there you went, unable to hold back the orgasm that washed over you when he licked and caressed you like that. You gushed out your juices, your eyes rolling into the back of your head once you felt the hot liquid being squirted out of you.

"Fuck Leon!" You let out a moan mixed with a sigh, your face all red with pleasure.

Faced with the scene, Leon didn't have much to do, his cock, which was throbbing painfully in the constraints of his pants, no longer hurt, he just felt the warmth forming in his body. Only to feel the thick ropes of cum spilling out, staining all his clothes. He didn't even realize it, he couldn't even hold back his own urges.

Leon couldn't even hide the blush that appeared fiercely on his cheeks, he felt so ashamed that he hadn't been able to hold back. But you couldn't blame him, every time he stared at your wet folds he couldn't help it, he felt all his blood pulsing to his lower body.

"I love the taste of you." He says in a sweet voice, as if he hadn't just eaten you out like a starving man.

When you regained your senses, you focused your gaze on him, and watched as he licked up all the rest of your fluids, licking his lips when he'd finished, then getting down on his knees.

"I promise I'll make it up to you. I promise." He says in a purr, soon putting his pants down, along with his underpants.

You saw a part of his cock, the pink tip that was dripping, not only that, but it was all sticky with his cum. At that moment you felt your pussy get even wetter.

Your legs remained open as you watched him, his hand wrapped firmly around his cock.

When he started masturbating, dirty, erotic moans came out of his mouth, whimpers so sly that you could spend the night watching him.

Leon could feel his cock getting harder and harder in his hand, with every movement, a little trail of pre-cum running down his pink tip.

"Mhm.... I'm going to fuck you. You're going to feel so good." He said, so sweetly, but at the same time looking at you in such a naughty way.

Once again he positioned himself on top of you, his tip resting lightly against your entrance. His cum mixing with yours, your fluids mixing with his, making a slippery mess.

You gripped the sheets tightly, biting your lower lip, your body moving involuntarily against him, begging for any other movement.

"You're so beautiful..." Leon purrs, giving you a little distraction, because right after that line he thrust hard against you.

He entered you at once, completely, without even letting you breathe. You went to heaven when you felt all that stretching once again, your walls stretching to accommodate him, your tight pussy wrapping itself tightly around him, making him grunt in response.

"Fucking tight-" he growls, placing his hands on your hips, letting his fingers sink into your skin.

He slowly put his body up against yours, letting his weight rest on you a little. His hips jerked against yours, his fingers leaving red marks on your hips.

Your mouth opened to let out a silent whimper, while your eyes closed tightly as he thrust all the way in and hit that spongy spot that made you see stars every time.

You swore you couldn't even hear yourself anymore, or know whatever inarticulate sounds you were letting out. The only sensation that was in your body was the sloppy thrusts, his tip reaching deep points, touching your cervix from time to time.

" Tight little pussy, so fucking good." Leon purrs, his hips moving against yours in an almost involuntary way, as if he no longer had any control.

Just as he could no longer hold back all the noises he let out every time you squeezed around him, your walls wrapped around his cock so tightly that he was trying not to roll his eyes every time it happened.

You could already feel your body heating up once again, you could even see the bodily signs that it wouldn't be long before you went over the edge once more. And Leon would be lying if he didn't say the same thing.

In a failed and desperate attempt to drown out his sounds, he put his mouth on yours, kissing you passionately and hotly, increasing the speed with which he thrust into you. In and out, in sync with the roll of your hips.

You felt your body shiver when he put his tongue inside your mouth, exploring everything he could, wanting to feel everything you could offer him.

It was the last straw for you to come, creaming all over his cock, making another mess of the sheets. The sensation of you moaning against his mouth, or the way he felt you cumming for him so easily, was a spark of electricity in his body.

All you understood was some cursing that came out of him, then his hot cum inside you. He was going to pull out, hell, he knew he shouldn't cum inside you. But how could he take his cock out of you when you nestled so perfectly?

The two of you were a mess, barely able to breathe, his forehead resting under yours as he tried to catch his breath.

And then he smiled innocently, whispering, "Round two?"

You rolled your eyes, he wasn't serious.

"No, it's two in the morning. We should be asleep." You retorted, and he nodded with a displeased pout.

He promptly got off you, rolling onto his side and hugging you from behind once again, keeping you close. He seemed quite relaxed now.

It's a long night, although he's satisfied now, maybe he just needs a little more love throughout the evening.

[lavenderbrigade]

GUYS. IM FUCKING. IM LOSING MY MIND

so i got barely any sleep last night. in an effort to keep myself awake, i chugged an entire peach flavored Alani. despite this i immediately passed out for almost two hours.

i woke up shaking so bad that my teeth were chattering. holy shit I haven’t had jitters this bad since i took my adderall with a C4 during finals week

i had the most visceral fucking dream about the Latest Viral Meme. it was like,,, a national warning. if you saw this meme it was an omen that your area was about to experience a solar apocalypse level heatwave and you needed to begin preparing immediately. I had like two false awakenings where i tried to explain this meme and warn people about the imminent apocalypse. i woke up for real, and with trembling hands immediately tried to recreate the meme as fast as i possibly could. i swear to god it looked exactly like this.

[fanfictionalraven]

Piece by Piece Pt. 1

Title: Piece by Piece Pt. 1

Summary: Nearly 18 years old, the reader runs away from a bad situation. On her way, she meets a handsome stranger running from his own problems.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, other SPN characters mentioned

Word Count: 2,422

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and abandonment, implied smut

Author's Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

The snow was coming down heavier now than it had been when you’d left. Stupid, channel 10 weatherman. He’d said the snow would let up overnight. He didn’t say a blizzard was moving in. You didn’t have a winter coat – or a plan for that matter. You’d just wanted out. So, you’d thrown together the few belongings you’d amassed over your past 17 years and climbed out of the second story window. Well, more like you’d fallen from the second story window, twisting your ankle in the process.

Now, here you were. Middle of the night in the driving snow, limping down the side of the road. You had originally thought you would be able to hitch a ride but not a single car had passed by in the hour you’d been walking. You needed to get as far away as you could before they woke up. You couldn’t go back.

The road suddenly lights up and you hear the sound of an engine approaching from behind. You turn and shield your eyes from the headlights as you stop and hold your thumb out. That’s what they did in all the movies. The women also generally showed a little leg but you weren’t stupid. It was dangerous enough being a 17-year-old girl out in the middle of the night by herself asking complete strangers for rides. The vehicle slows, coming to a stop next to you. You pull the handle on the door and quickly slide into the passenger seat, immediately thanking whatever entity was listening for the radiating heat inside.

“Where you headed, Sweetheart?” The driver of the car asks. You look over at him for the first time and your heart nearly stops. He was gorgeous, probably around your age. In his bright green eyes, you could see – concern? Why was he so worried? Did you look like a deranged serial killer?

It wasn’t until he reached over and turned the heat up even more that you realized you were shaking so profusely. You hadn’t noticed how cold you had actually gotten standing out in the snow. You probably would have drifted into hypothermic shock if he hadn’t come around that corner when he did. Your savior quickly sheds his leather jacket and reaches over, draping it around your shoulders.

“Th-thank you,” you tell him through chattering teeth. You pull the lapels of his leather jacket tighter around you and his scent envelopes you immediately; a mix of the leather, cologne, and earth.

“Where you headed?” He asks again. You frown and shake your head slightly.

“As f-far away from here as p-possible,” you admit. His response is unexpected. He laughs. You look at him and his smile is breathtaking, highlighting two perfect dimples in his cheeks.

“You too, huh?” He asks. It takes a second to register then you smile as well. He was running away too. He puts the car in gear and slowly continues down the road. “I’m Dean by the way. Dean Winchester.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you tell him. The two of you ride in silence for a few minutes as you bring your body temperature back up to normal. Once the shivering subsides, you glance over at him. “So, Dean Winchester, what are you running away from?” He lets out a sigh and you see his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“My dad – he’s got some pretty high expectations. Got tired of it,” he says. You nod and he cuts his eyes over at you. “What about you? Family trouble?” You shake your head, looking out the window at the driving snow.

“No. I don’t have a family,” you say. You know he’s still waiting for you to explain. You hesitate for a moment then sigh. “My mother got pregnant when she was just a kid, 17, my age. Neither of my parents wanted me so I’ve been in the system since I was just a baby. I was with this one family, the Baxter’s, till I was 13. They were great. I thought they were going to adopt me but…I don’t know. One day, they called my social worker and told her to come get me. I’ve been in eight different homes since. And this one…it’s not a good place. I’m almost 18 but – I don’t think I can handle another 3 months.”

“Sounds like a damn good reason to me,” he says. You glance over at him, surprised. You’d expected him to press you for more information, ask you a ton of questions you didn’t want to answer, but he didn’t. He let it go and, instead, punched in the cassette tape that was sitting half out of the player. The sound of a lead guitar fills the car as you ride on into the night.

Eventually, the snow gets too heavy to keep going. Dean pulls the car off onto a side road and parks between a couple of trees. He turns the volume down so that it’s just background noise then turns to face you. You expect those difficult questions now but that’s not what you get. He asks you your favorite color, movie, song, book. And you ask him the same questions. The two of you spend the next two hours playing 20 Questions, or 120 Questions more like.

“And Sammy got mad, threw the ball at me but he missed and knocked out the back windshield,” he laughs. You smile and shake your head, watching him. His smile falls slowly as the memory continues to play in his mind. “He was scared to death. I told Dad it was my fault.” He looks at his hands, an unspoken truth hanging in the air between you. Sliding across the seat, you take his hands in yours.

“Sam’s lucky to have you. I’d give anything to have someone love me the way you love him,” you tell him. He smiles slightly then turns your hands over in his. He carefully pushes the sleeve of your shirt up. You watch as he gently runs his thumb over the small circular burns that pepper your inner arm.

“You know, I’m not sure I like the idea of you out on your own,” he says, glancing up at you. You raise an eyebrow at him, fighting a smile.

“Oh? Why’s that?” You ask. He looks up at you fully now and the look on his face is one you’ve seen already, when you first got in the car – concern.

“There’s a lot of bad stuff out there, Y/N. Evil stuff. Monsters,” he says. You smile a little sadly and look down at your arm again.

“I already live with a monster,” you tell him. He shakes his head, letting your hands go. You return your attention to his face to find he appears torn, as though there’s something he wants to tell you, something he needs to tell you. He’s searching your eyes for an answer to an unspoken question. You bite your lip then takes his hands in yours again. “What is it, Dean?”

“You’ll run if I tell you,” he says. That sentence should scare you, but it doesn’t. He says it with so much care and concern. Something deep inside tells you that you’d never run away from him, no matter what he says or does and that scares you. But he’s worried about you and you can count on one hand the number of people in your life that have been genuinely worried for your safety and well-being.

“I don’t scare easy,” you tell him. He looks at your hands then closes his eyes and for a moment you think he’s praying; praying that you’re right. You squeeze his hands and he sighs before speaking.

“Monsters are real, Y/N. I don’t mean just bad people. I mean…monsters. Like vampires and werewolves and ghosts and — when I was four years old a demon killed my mom. So Dad, he packed me and little six month old Sammy up and we’ve been hunting down these monsters ever since, trying to find the demon that got Mom,” he confesses.

There’s nothing but the sound of the wind and Bon Jovi playing quietly in the background as his words hang in the air. Vampires. Werewolves. Ghosts. Demons. Dean looks up at you slowly, trying to read your face but years of practice help you keep your emotions in check. You take your time, processing each word carefully. Finally, you look out the windshield at the snow.

“One of the houses I was at, I was sure it was haunted. No one else believed me but every night my room would get so cold and I could hear a girl crying. But I was the only girl in the house. Then finally I saw her. She was in the corner, crying. They were convinced I was crazy, had me taken away the next day,” you say slowly. You look at Dean to find he’s watching you and you smile. “Joke’s on them, I guess.”

“You believe me?” He asks, staring at you as though you were telling him monsters were real. You let out a light laugh and nod.

“I don’t claim to know everything or have all the answers to life’s questions so yea. I’m sure there are plenty of unexplainable, paranormal things out there,” you tell him. He gives you a big, goofy grin that makes you laugh even harder. “So…if I can’t go out on my own because a…goblin is gonna get me…”

“Goblin? Really?” He asks, laughing now. You smile, watching, as he leans back against the door, shaking his head. “Sorry, Sweetheart, but David Bowie isn’t gonna come kidnap you.”

“Didn’t have you pegged as a Jim Henson fan,” you say, smirking at him. He smiles and shrugs.

“You watch whatever you can growing up in motels,” he explains. You nod then look at your hands, still intertwined with his own.

“Okay, no goblins then. I can’t go out on my own because a…vampire?” You ask, looking back at him. He nods once and you continue. “A vampire might attack me. What do you suggest I do then?” He smiles a crooked, half smile and shrugs his shoulders.

“I was thinking – maybe – instead of dropping you off at the Greyhound station in the morning, we could stick together,” he suggests.

“You asking me to run away with you, Dean Winchester?” You ask, watching him. He shrugs again. You smile a sad, knowing smile and shake your head. “No.”

“No?” He asks, surprised. You shake your head again and look at your hands.

“No. See, you don’t really want to run away. You’re just mad at your dad right now. You’d want to go back to him and to Sam,” you tell him. His face falls and he looks away, knowing you’re right. “And me, well – I know what’ll happen to me if I run away. I’ll end up on the street, a nameless victim for some monster, human or otherwise.”

“You’re going back there??” He asks, looking back at you quickly. You smile and reach up, placing your hand against his cheek. That same concern was back in his eyes, his beautiful green eyes that you never wanted to forget.

“I am. Sure, it’s bad, but…I turn 18 and graduate in three months. I’ll be able to leave and get some help with college and work. Lesser of two evils,” you explain. He still frowns, unsure. Your smile slowly turns into a smirk. “Besides, aren’t you 19? I don’t think this counts as running away anymore.” That makes him smile before chuckling.

“Yea, pretty sure we’ve crossed into grand theft auto,” he says, nodding slightly. You laugh and now it’s his turn to smirk. He sits up, leaning in towards you slightly. “Guess that makes you my accomplice.”

“The Bonnie to your Clyde?” You ask. He nods and you just catch his eyes quickly dart down to your lips. You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth for a second then let it go. “How mad is he gonna be?”

“I’ll just tell him I was rescuing this girl from a goblin,” he tells you. You throw your head back laughing and he smiles widely, showing off those dimples again. “Ya know, it’s crazy. We’ve known each other barely three hours but…I’m really gonna miss you.” You smile softly and put your hand against his cheek again.

“Me too,” you say quietly. You see his emerald eyes drift down again, slower this time, before returning to your Y/E/C ones. Your fingers slide back into his hair before you lean in, pressing your lips against his. His lips are soft and timid at first, unsure of your intent. You move forward, slowly straddling his waist. His hands find the edge of your shirt and his fingers just graze the skin underneath, sending a shiver down your spine.

************************************************************************

Dean finds a blanket in the backseat as you slip into his flannel button-up shirt. He smirks as he watches you before pulling his jeans back on.

“What?” You ask, laughing. He shrugs slightly.

“Looks better on you,” he says, pointing to the shirt. You smile as he lays back on the seat before laying down next to him, curling into him quickly. He throws the blanket over the two of you then wraps his arms around you tight. “You sure you don’t wanna go on back? Sneak back in and avoid trouble?” You shake your head quickly.

“Can’t sneak back in. Besides, I’d really rather stay here for a few more hours,” you tell him. He nods and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Alright. Sweet dreams,” he whispers into your hair. You close your eyes and quickly drift off to sleep.

The next morning, Dean drives you back to the house. You share one last kiss that neither of you wants to end before he drapes his leather jacket back over your shoulders. You get out of the car and trudge up to the house slowly, knowing you’ll never see Dean Winchester again. When you get inside, the family isn’t happy like you knew they wouldn’t be. You return to your room, fresh wounds on your arms. Later that afternoon, a man knocks on the door, asking to speak to you. He says he’s with the FBI and asks you about the bandages on your arms. Before he leaves, he speaks to your foster parents alone in the other room. They don’t touch you again after that.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 2 here.

[newhologram]

Okay, baby’s first surgery. Had to be at the hospital at 5:30am. They did more pre-op labs and EKG just to be extra safe. Both arms’ veins aren’t in great shape so they didn’t even try the IV there. They couldn’t get my left hand but were able to get my right (ow!). Blood rushed out all over my hand, oops. Techs kept asking if I had kids, presumably because I was about to get sterilized. Every time I told them I have 4 cats, they laughed. They all took good care of me and my main nurse remembered me from my 3 day flare-up stay last year. The anesthesiologist asked about the fibromyalgia. He understood that it makes surgery a lot more painful (plus slower healing and can cause a flare) so he made sure to have the right drugs ready for me. He even asked if I have a pain doctor so I explained the whole ordeal I went through getting and losing mine, how I can’t get one that’ll give me the right meds. He shook his head and expressed frustration at how hard it is for patients to get adequate pain management. 100%, dude. Then I finally got to meet the surgeon. Been going to his OBGYN office for a few years but never got to interact with him. We went over the procedure and he warned me that there’s a chance the endometriosis might make it hard for him to even access my uterine tubes. I let him know about my past MRI findings (lesion on bladder, multiple on colon, kidneys backed up, enlarged pelvic lymph nodes, fatty liver) so he kept that in mind. When I woke up, it was instant shaking and crying. The pain was so bad it had my teeth chattering, the same kind of terrible cramping I get from the endo. Someone goofed and had already taken out my IV before I woke up so they had to put it back into my sore hand to give me a dose of hydromorphone. One wasn’t enough though, I couldn’t settle down, so they gave me another. Thankfully the pain’s been manageable since I got home, I’m mostly sore and tender at the incisions. So tiny! Other than that, my throat and mouth are raw from the breathing tube and I'm definitely feeling the gas pain referring to my shoulders. I was hoping to talk to the surgeon after to hear how it went but he was already gone💀Bruh. No info about whether there were any cysts or lesions. I have to wait 2 weeks for a follow up. I know we have to wait for pathology anyway but I wanted to hear what he saw in there. Hope I get to see pics at the follow up at least. :\ I was also sent home without antibiotics or painkillers, which I think must be a mistake? I was told at my consult a year ago I’d be given stuff. So gotta call them again tomorrow. Luckily I still have some bentyl so I took that as soon as I got home. They cleared me for cannabis and whatever else I need right away. Going to see about getting another vitamin IV infusion soon. My friend is going to stay with me during the day to help me out this first week but I’m still taking extended time off to focus on rest and healing. So far my body isn’t freaking out as bad as I thought it would but we’ll see. Relieved to officially be permanently sterilized. ❌🤰 Thanks for all the messages! I’ll keep everyone updated when I learn more.

[moier-must-die]

For my English assignment I sent in a Gerard and Frank fan-fic (kinda) (not romantical) (I used Gee and Frankie so nobody would suspect a thing)

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The Morality of a Vampire

Sweat beat down on Gee’s forehead as his vision began to tunnel. He hadn’t asked to be this way, he was forced. Roughly pushed against an alley wall held down and stripped of his very humanity as razor sharp white teeth ripped out his neck. Before he could even breathe an immense thirst took over, a thirst only quenched by blood. Gee had been living off street rats and sometimes the rare ‘lost’ house pet. He was sick of it, sick of the constant ringing in his head, voices telling him to just give in and drink human blood. 

Late in the cover of darkness Gee decided it was finally time to give into his urges, that after the years of pestering maybe the voices would quiet if he accepted his fate. He rushed down a damp alleyway, keeping an eye out for people who would not be missed. At last his pinhole vision met another's gaze. A drunkard and a miscreant, someone that will not be looked for until someone notices the build of their mail. 

Frankie lay against an alley wall, head thumping, teeth chattering and the overly paranoid notion of impending doom filling his head. He had over done it. Again. In his dizzy vision he noticed a tall figure nervously scooting towards him. 

“Hello? Are you alive?” stuttered the man now standing over Frankie. Frankie couldn’t speak, his words would slur as much as his mind so instead he just nodded. The man offered Frankie a hand “My name is Gee”. 

Frankie woke up and groggily opened his eyes and scanned the room, he was laying on a scarlet velvet daybed. “How did I get here?” Frankie thought as he slowly rose from his lying position. His eyes were met with a pair of dull hazel eyes staring back.

“You're awake” stated the man blankly.

“Who are you?”

“Where am I?” Frankie asked, this is not the first time he had woken up in a strange place meeting eyes with a strange man.

“My name isn’t important, You need to get sobered up” the mysterious man stated handing Frankie a coffee he had been holding. He took a sip, and started to perk up a bit, the dark room becoming more clear. There were heavy curtains trapping the darkness in the room and flowing down to the black painted floorboards. The room was practically barren other than a lit fireplace with candle wax drooping, frozen in their motion on the mantelpiece. 

“My name is Gee” The man whispered quietly, almost seeming anxious in nature. 

“The names Frankie” Frankie said in response, holding his hand out waiting for the man to shake it. Gee grabbed his hand and shook it, weakly.

Gee and Frankie had been talking for a while, and Frankie was finally sober. But Gee knew that, he could smell it on him. He cautiously led Frankie to the kitchen, they were touring the house and this is the destination that Gee had decided on would be the ending. “Woah!” Frankie said, looking at Gee as he took Frankies hand and swung him around into a position where his neck was exposed. Gee opened his mouth as fangs sprung out in place of his canines. Frankie saw the look in Gee’s eye and the sparkle of his elongated teeth, this is it, he was dying and it was to a vampire. “I’m sorry” Frankie winced.

Gee hesitated. What am I doing?, taking the life of an innocent human? Am I just as bad as the ones who turned me? He let go of Frankie and walked away, into the darkness of his old house. 

Frankie sat in the kitchen bewildered, he thought Gee would have taken his life, he thought he would already be dead. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Let me know if I should make another part?

[thegothicchangeling]

Sick Days

You hadn’t meant to get caught in the sleet. You just wanted to go to the bakery and buy cookies. But of course, things never worked out in your favor.

You’d thought it would be nice to walk, but you’d had to turn back before you even got there when the storm started. And of course all your layers of warm clothing were now soaking wet and parts of your hair frozen as you stumbled back home.

At last, home was in sight. You would have sighed in relief, but your teeth were knocking together too much to allow for it.

You knocked on the door and it flung open to reveal Tolya, who looked frantic. “Y/N! I was so worried!” He pulled you inside. “You’re soaking wet!”

You sneezed as your boyfriend started peeling your sleet covered garments off of you. “We need to get you in a hot bath right now.”

You nodded, shaking, teeth chattering, as Tolya continued stripping all your clothes off of you. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised.

Tolya bathed you, put you in pajamas, and put you to bed straightaway. It made you feel like a child again, but not in a bad way. You didn’t mind him fussing over you as you drifted off to sleep

The next morning when you woke up wrapped in blankets, you felt as cold as you had been when you were stuck in the sleet. Your throat hurt and your airways were clogged with mucus. “Tolya,” you croaked.

“I’m right here,” he replied. You realized his hands were on your face. You could see his worried face peering down at you. When did that happen? “Your temperature is way too high. I’m trying to bring it down.”

“I can't breathe good,” you wheezed. 

“I know,” Tolya soothed. “It’s because your nose and throat are full of mucus.

You fought to sit up and tried to speak, but a bout of coughing hit you and launched you into Tolya’s arms. “I got you, I got you. I’m here.”

“Here, blow your nose.” He picked up a box of tissues from the bedside table and handed you a tissue. Next to the tissue box was a bowl with nothing in it and a small bottle of something.

You did as you were told, and emptied your nose of as much snot as you could. It was gross, but Tolya didn’t complain. When you were done, he collected all the tissues, threw them away, and presented you with the bowl. “I need you to cough up as much as you can. It won't be fun, but I’ll help you.”

He braced you with one large hand on your sternum and the other on your back. You followed his instructions, coughing as much as you could. You could feel your lungs constricting to force the phlegm out of you. You knew Tolya was doing it with his magic. It was agonizing.

A more learned healer could have it painless, but Tolya’s education had been more focused on combat and emergency situations. He knew how to save a life, and comfort was trivial next to that.

When the bowl was full of your mucus and tears were streaming down your face, he lowered you back down on your pillows to rest. You couldn’t stop coughing at first, but Tolya made your lungs expand until you could breathe normally on your own.

“There you are. You’re okay,” he said softly. He stroked your tangled hair, and his touch soothed you greatly. “You’re alright.”

He picked up the bottle. “This will help the congestion. It needs to go on your chest. Is that okay?”

You’d seen each other naked hundreds of times, but Tolya was nothing if not a respectful gentleman. You smiled. “Of course.”

“It’s cold!” You exclaimed when he started rubbing it on you.

“No it’s not,” he replied calmly. “You’re just sick. Now try to get some rest.” Eager to follow his instructions, you fell asleep.

When you woke up, Tolya was there, stroking your face gently. “Hello, my love. I made you soup.”

“I’m not hungry,” you rasped. Your throat was sore from all the coughing, and you knew there was still a lot of coughing ahead of you.

“You need to eat,” your boyfriend said. “And take medicine.” He held a spoonful of some kind of syrup to your lips, and you reluctantly let him give it to you. It tasted horrid. “Now you need to eat some soup.”

“Too tired,” you protested.

“It’s okay. I’ll feed you.”

Your mouth opened in a yawn, and Tolya took the opportunity to shove soup into it. It was full of noodles and vegetables. “You won’t get better if you don’t eat. And Nikolai gave me time off, so I’ll be here until you’re better, making sure you eat.” He said that last part sternly, making it clear that there would be no arguing with him.

You groaned. He fed you the whole bowl, one spoonful at a time. Finally, he set it down. Feeling a little stronger, you started pulling yourself up and pulling the covers off of you. “I need the bathroom.”

“Do you need me to help you?” Tolya asked sincerely.

“No, no, I'm good.”

“Alright.”

As soon as you had finished, Tolya tucked you back into bed. You didn’t mind anymore, though. You were exhausted and freezing just from getting up for a moment. “Sleep well, my love.”

The next morning, he was there again with an omelet. “You slept a long time,” he said, smiling. “That’s good. Now you need to eat.”

This time, you were strong enough to feed yourself, and then to bathe. You were tired again afterwards, though. “Do you think I’ll be well again soon?” You asked tiredly.

“Probably in a day or two. You caught a nasty cold."

“That much is obvious.” You replied flatly. Tolya chuckled in response and caressed your cheek tenderly.

At that moment, you remembered that your hair hadn’t been combed in days. You grabbed a lock of the rat's nest it had  become and held it in front of your face. “Ugh, my hair is a mess.”

“Let me help,” Tolya suggested. He crossed the room and retrieved a hairbrush from on top of the dresser, then returned to you.

“I suppose I wouldn't mind that.” You sat up, and he pulled you into his lap. Beginning at the bottom, he started detangling your hair. He was very gentle, more gentle than you would have been with yourself.

“There. All done.” He set the brush down, and you leaned back against him.

“Thank you. Can you read to me?” You asked as you settled back down.

“Of course, my love,” he said warmly. “What should we read?”

You shrugged. “You decide.”

“Alright.” He picked out a book of poems and sat down beside you. You snuggled into his chest and he put his arm around you. 

When you woke up, Tolya wasn’t there. It was the first time he hadn’t been there when you’d awoken. You felt a lot better, though, so you got up. You could hear him moving around in the kitchen and you followed the sounds to their source. 

Tolya was making pancakes. He didn’t notice you until you sneezed. Then he turned to you with a smile on his face. “Good morning, my love.”

“Good morning, darling,” you replied. You took a seat in one of the barstools at the counter. “The pancakes smell good.”

“Thank you, Y/N. You look like you’re feeling better.”

“Well, I did have a first rate nurse taking care of me.” You rested your chin on your fist.

Tolya turned off the stove and came to sit by you. He smiled and pulled you in for a hug. “Thank you. I think you’re still a little sick, though.”

“Eh, I’m basically healed,” you said. Tolya felt your forehead. “You still have a fever,” he smiled. “Which means I get to keep taking care of you.”

You groaned, half pretending to care that you’d spend the rest of the day being pampered by your amazing boyfriend. You couldn’t think of a better way to spend it.

[mysteriouslypleasantdreamland]

This is my favorite prompt, so I figured I’d try Day 11 of Febuwhump. One of the symptoms on the laundry list of fibromyalgia symptoms is also fever, so I can relate to this one a lot. This is inspired by something I saw on Naked and Afraid last night.

Day 11-Fever

Warnings: brief mentions of needles and hospital

At first it was nothing. The expedition was going as it usually was, scouting, setting up camp, laying out plans for the next move. A had done this so many times, in so many locations. The jungle was nothing new. They lived for the adventure! It was B they were more worried about. B got anxiety sleeping in a tent in the back yard, so seeing how they would be able to hunt and fish for food, gather wood and make fire, while being prepared to fight of predators at any moment was the main concern. “Go with out me! You don’t need me!” “B we don’t have an expedition without you! You have all the knowledge, you know what to look for!” “Oh A, you’re just as smart as me!” A sighed and rolled their eyes. “Yes but your the one with the degrees and the titles. I’m the one with the expertise in survival and exploration. The survival person gets everyone there to and from safe, the person with the degrees makes sure nothing gets screwed up. So either you come with us, or there’s no expedition. No expedition, no pay day.”

That was almost two weeks ago. B had been doing relatively well. About another week and they’d be home. “Back to civilization” B shouted when go over the latest plans. “Oh come on! It hasn’t been that bad.” Before B could answer, A felt a stinging like sensation on their arm. “Ow! Damn mosquitoes!” They slapped hard. They killed the little pest, this was one thing about the jungle they could live without. “For someone who likes to adventure and explore a lot you sure get bitten by bugs a lot.” “Goes with the territory. I’ll be alright.” “A bugs carry all kinds of diseases! If you’re not care you’ll get sick. You should start taking better care of yourself.” “B I appreciate the concern but I’ll be fine. Sometimes getting sick is part of it. It can also add to the adventure. Really makes the story when you go and retell it.”

Three days went by, all went according to plan. On the fourth day, A woke up not feeling right, they felt tired and achy. This wasn’t a normal ache either, this ache was all over. This was muscle and bone deep ache, one that with every move it took energy out of you. They went to stand up, when they did the room was spinning out of control. It wasn’t until they laid back down they noticed an intense chill. So intense, even wrapping the blanket as tight as they could around them couldn’t get them warm. Soon they were shaking uncontrollably, teeth chattering nonstop. “A get out here! We’ve gotta get going!” A didn’t know how they were going to make it through the rest of the expedition feeling the way they were. With all the strength they had, they got up, got dressed, and acted like everything was fine.

Most of the day was uneventful. A was getting through it, even with B commenting on how they looked like death warmed over and asking if they were fine. It was around noon that things started to change. A went from feeling cold, to feeling hot. Very hot. Very, very hot. The humidity of the jungle wasn’t helping either. Now their head was pounding, their throat hurt, and there was a constant thirst that didn’t go away. “A are you sure you’re alright,” B asked as they went to fill their canteen for the fifth time that day. “B for the last time, I’m fine! Quit-“ A dropped the canteen and fell to the ground. There was shouting and people running back and fourth. “They’re sweaty and they’re faced is flushed.” Was the last thing A heard before darkness over came them.

A didn’t know how long they had been out, but they felt just as bad maybe worse when came to. The pain was horrible, their body felt as if it were on fire. They were drenched in sweat. Suddenly something cold and wet was touching their forehead. A opened their eyes, but the light hurt so they quickly shut them. “A you’re really sick. The doctor says you got sick from one of the bugs that but you most likely.” It was B’s voice, they’d recognize that voice anywhere. “You’re burning up! I mean, you’ve got a really bad fever. They’ve called for a chopper to evacuate you to the nearest hospital, but it’s a couple hours away. We’ve got to cool you down in the mean time. If we don’t, we’ll things aren’t going to look good.” “B I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I should’ve taken better care of myself. I should’ve-“ B gently hushes them, placing another cold rag on the back of their neck. “Don’t worry about that now. Let’s get you better. We can talk about being better prepared later.”

The next couple hours go by in a blur. The fever was relentless. Cold compresses we’re places throughout their whole body. It wasn’t enough, they kept warming up what seemed like every ten minutes. The compresses where changed when they weren’t cold, that wasn’t enough. Eventually they had to sit a in the shallow end of the river to try and cool them down. All on the mean time A seamed out of it. They said things that didn’t make sense. They also thrashed back and forth, screaming about monsters that only seemed to exist in their dreams. B was by their side the whole time. Changing compresses, giving them water, even just holding A and telling them everything was going to be ok. B didn’t not leave As side. Not when the evacuation team put the IV fluids in, to when the got on the helicopter, to when they got to the hospital. Finally, A woke up on day 2 of being in the hospital. “What about the expedition? You’ll lose money if someone screws up one the next couple days that’s left back.” B gives an exhaustive laugh. “Well next time you plan to go unprepared, think about that and remember this experience. Promise?” A looked at B, it was obvious B had come along way from getting anxiety about being in a tent in the backyard, plus maybe something’s don’t need to be added to make a story. As long as the job got done and everyone was ok, that’s really all that mattered. “Promise.”

[jaewrotethis]

10- Waste...

Her P.O.V.

Waking in complete darkness is more confusing than I remember. Opening my eyes to see confusion of which way is up and which is down, I get slapped in the face with a spinning ditz. Only grasping the ground steadies the head sway and there is still no way of telling if it’s day or night. No light ever shone from the forever closed door. No other prisoner started conversation with me. No sign of time was given at all. I lie on the floor for hours on hours. Time goes on and on. My mind screams louder and louder. From fidgeting to exercising I fall into old habits that distract the voices in my head from ripping me apart. I stretch my new bruises and wounds to make them ache is warm soreness, so east to focus on. I fight the walls, I beat the bars. I sing songs coded in my head and recite readings memorized. I laugh at the ceiling and cry in the corner. For every hour until sleep took over, from every minute after waking up, my best efforts to soothe the psychosis kept it at bay, until it didn’t…

The darkness around me blinks away when I open my eyes after rubbing them roughly. I exhale my slipping sanity and see the white room that has replaced the dark cell. My dorm surrounds me. The white walls and barred window stir my stomach, suddenly all I know is the asylum days. Back to the routine of trying to stay off the medication, stay out of trouble, and stay plotting to get the warden, Tris, fired.

I do a quick circle, scanning all my old belongings I used to cherish. My eyes come to the bed and I the memory of what hides underneath the tile slaps me in the face. Walking to the bed slowly, I look down to see my clothes clean. I take hold of the cold bars of the head board and pull the bed away from the wall. Underneath one of the square tiles that touches the trim sits scraps of papers covered in my hand writing. A small journal as well hides beneath the scraps. Kneeling down, I lift the loose tile and sift through the papers, pulling up the small black journal. I so vividly remember the last time I wrote in this little book. Tears poured down my face, my teeth chattered with my shaking hands. Blood dripped from my nose, a bad reaction to the medicated they forced into my veins. I was panicking, trying to maintain my eyesight as I wrote the sloppy cursive summary of what had just happened.

I flip to the back of the book to find the very paragraph of the traumatic day but I find different entries. Entries of a different time I had written down the horrors of the days in this place.

April 7, 1947 Dear the free, Tris caught me yesterday. It was going to be the fourth day in a row that she made me chew and swallow her pills. I went to the aviary so the birds could eat the evidence. I pulled the heist and wiped my mouth when I was done, but she saw it all. She gave me her favorite needle dose. It’s the worst they’ve done yet. I woke this morning to guards yanking me from my bedding. They held me down and forced the long needle into my neck. It took over fast, lasted over nine hours. It wore off just now, minutes ago. I’m finally mobile again to write this letter that will hopefully find it’s way to someone who can shut this whole evil place down. My muscles ache, I cannot relax, the tension is unbearable. The drugs were so cold, so paralyzing. I was unable to move anything, even blink. It tires me so yet I was unable to fall asleep. They threw me back in my bed then messes with me...parts of me, luckily they didn’t go as far as to have sex with me. After they left the room all I could do was lay there all day long. Only the ceiling to stare at. It was only the first day and it is the most torturous thing. Worse than the box, worse than the shocks, I think it might be a perfected treatment, they might’ve cracked the weapon drug solution. Man made, mad made. I’m not sure how I am to do thirteen more days of it. The dread of tomorrows needle is enough to force the unthinkable in my head, to end it all. The only reason to fight on would be to find the boy responsible and make him pay, the boy who could fly. The evil, spiteful being who is free instead of me. An evil human free to fly outside of captivity, it’s not right. There is no karma. There is no god. There is no justice.

- Jane.

This entry wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t the very last time I wrote in this journal. The entry after it haunts my bones as I remember these days too well. The days when I was paralyzed beyond help. Confused, look to the entry beside it.

April 22, 1947 Dear the free, I see it now. The reason I was put here. It wasn’t because of the boy who claimed his name to be Peter Pan. It wasn’t so he could save my life for a higher purpose. It’s because I was meant to have time to get lost in the expensive world that is my own mind. I was meant to sit alone in my mind and indulge in the rabbit hole that is my mind. To think. To plan. To rise, to be free, to escape. I will get out one day. I’ll get out, I’ll find this ‘Peter Pan’, and I’ll make him feel every last bit of what I felt, what he deserves to feel. He will be put in the dark for days on end, unreleased until his mentality has cracked by his own thoughts. He will be injected with the cold fluids of sedatives designed to collapse his entire reality onto himself and tear his emotions to shreds. He will know his failures are his own and the consequences will always hurt everyone he cares about, it will tear his mind apart whether he lets it or not. He will feel every last bit of torture inflicted on us in this hell of a building. He will get every treatment, the first one, the worst one, that shows every fear the mind could ever hate right in front of his eyes. The state that will rape his mind until the pieces of sanity left over are only demeaning fragments of the human mind. The second treatment, that paralyzes and doesn’t allow sleep, only thoughts on thoughts on thoughts, no action, never movement. The third, the one that will put him in a deep sleep, a terror that brings all dreams to nightmares, all fears to reality, all the terrible hidden thoughts to the surface.

I am the way I am because of these treatments. All the tortures and demonic experiments thrust upon me will be the fate for ‘Peter Pan’ when I meet him again.

The needle treatments ended today. I’ve endured the two weeks of being a potato as punishment, left for the male nurses and guards to do the sick twisted things that they did. I’ve lost nearly fifteen pounds and no longer see the need to try and stay on my best behavior for the hope of being released one day. I’m fucked. The world is fucked. These people are fucked, worse of all. I’m not going to die classified as insane, in this building. They wish my life will not amounting to anything but they’re wrong. Sure, when placed under a rigged microscope I am nothing but a defected cell meant for an early death, but the higher truth is that I have a bigger mission. To reciprocate9 every horror caused by Peter Pan. The only light, the only hope is that one day the flying boy will simply find his way back to my window, and I can take his miserable life.

-Jane

I close the book, wondering why the entries are out of place. And then I hear the footsteps coming to the door. I turn to face, my eyes catching glance of the mirror behind the thick plastic. My hair is braided to the side and suddenly, I remember this day. The only time I ever tried to braid my hair. This is the day before I wrote these entries. It doesn’t make sense how the entries are already written before the events happened, but here I am, trapped in the memory. Unaware of what it is, the footsteps come closer and my nerves jump higher. I shove the paper and journal back in the floor and push the bed back in place, not bothering replacing the tile where it goes. I barely manage to shove the bed back in place before the door unlocks and swings open.

Behind it stands the very Tris I loathe. Two guards behind her. She wears the fake and quite caked smiling face. In her hand is a tray of paper cups. One small full of pills, the other bigger, full of water. She steps into the room. I back up, looking behind me for an exit, though I know there isn’t one.

“Good morning, Jane,” she smiles at me.

I say nothing.

“Ready for breakfast?” she steps to me again, edging out her tray.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

She takes the little cup in her slim hand and holds it out for me. The two guards walk in when I don’t take it and the three of them corner be against the bed until I’m sitting on it, looking up at Tris’s devil face.

“Open wide,” she encourages when I take the cup and bring it to my mouth.

Glancing inside the cup I see four blue tablets and smaller yellow capsule. I drop the pills in my mouth, holding them on my tongue.

“Chew them.”

“What?” I finally speak.

“Chew them,”

“You’re crazy, I’m not-”

“Chew and swallow them, or we’ll inject them.”

I shake, wondering how serious she is. Eyeing the guards beside her until one of them pulls out the white pouch and I know I don’t have a choice. I don’t break the eye contact as I crunch down, breaking open the powdery circles. The taste of chemical medicine fills my mouth and I choke on the gag.

“Ah, ah, ah. Swallow them.” Tris says when I almost cough.

I glare at her, forcing my jaw to chew the awful tasting drugs.

“That’s a good girl,” she smiles handing me the bigger paper cup full of water.

I swallow down the water, thankful to wash away the taste, only bits lingering on my molars.

“I’ll be back later with your afternoon dose,”

Already I feel the effect, my eyes lowering.

“And if I catch you throwing them up in the bathroom again, I’ll assign your medication as injections for the next two weeks,” she says the last sentence less nice.

Together they exit my dorm, closing the door behind them, without a lock. My stomach begins churning, my head already clouding. My heart beats fast as I grow nervous knowing I have very, very little time to eject them from my system before they hit as hard as they can. I wait until the clicking of her high heels disappears in the hallway’s echo then I sulk to my door. I open my door, peeking around the corner. The white halls are empty. My arms are beginning to feel heavy, the tips of my finger tips are tingling. I shake my head to keep my sight from dizzying. My time is shorter than I thought, so I run down the hall, headed for the bathroom as fast as I can. I sneak behind the male nurses that stand facing the rec room, getting slower and slower. I struggle, dragging my feet and trying to keep my head up. When I turn the corner to the bathroom I’m forced to stop. Three guards stand at the wide open door, listening to whatever goes on the bathroom.

Oh, now you chose be on guard, but not when the girls rape another in there, I shake my head, turning around.

Using the bathroom to rid the meds isn’t an option and my time is only running more and more out. The drowsiness is beginning to taking over. I try to hustle through the hall way, walking sickly through the rec room, the drugs spinning my mind, but it’s only common behavior in this place. The only rooms open to us at this time would be the music room, the cafeteria, the library, and the aviary. Best option is clearly the aviary, so the only evidence would be some dazed birds flying around. Off to the aviary I run, before the drugs make me hit the floor.

Just as I’m approaching the glass doors of the aviary a new wave of dizziness knocks my senses away and suddenly I feel so dumbed to my core. A single guard stands at the door, eyeing my ditz of a walk. He lets me pass, thinking my state is nothing but normal and I walk behind the trees. My knees hit the ground without consent and yet this is only the beginning of the reaction. Refusing to let the drugs stay in me any longer. I shove my fingers in my mouth as I’ve perfected by now and relax my stomach to let out all the awful drugs.

When I’m done, my shaking hands wipe my mouth. I can already feel the head rush calm just a tad. I suppose I’m successful. I’ve nearly avoided my doses. The little bit that did drug me effects as sitting on the floor, shaking away the sleep and paralyzing agent. Breathing hard, I search for stability and grab hold of it when I can, until it lasts longer and longer each time. Just waiting for the bits that made it into my blood to wear off, to just go away. I wait and wait until the fuzzy drowsiness and muscle stiffness turns into just a cloudy train of thought. When I’m able to stand I walk back inside.

The doorway to the building seems to darken as I step closer. The white frame creeps gray then black, darker and darker the closer I walk and when I step inside the entire white walls are gone. A black void waits for me. The asylum is gone, the memory just that again. I realize I’m standing in the dirt cell. The foggy flashback gone and I remember what the present is. I remember my situation, my long day, and my horrible enemy that waits to kill me. And wait for so long he does. Waits and waits for so long that I’m right back to loosing my mind without a flashback or old habits to distract me.

Is it morning yet? When is Pan coming back to kill me? Will I ever see outside again? Why are people crying so much? What’s going to happen to me? Am I gonna get forgotten down here? Oh god, I’m going to get forgotten down here. How long have I been awake? Did I even sleep? How long has it been? Do the cries and moans ever stop? What time is it? What is that on my face?

Over and over I’ve explored my little dirt cell with my hands, failing to find anything but dirt and root bits. No back door exit, no hole to dig bigger and bigger until it’s an escape, and certainly no source of any kind of light. I resort to laying on my back with my feet on the wall, counting my fingers in the air. It has been fairly cold this entire time down here in the dark, but just now as I drop my hands, I feel a strong, freezing sensation. It strikes every skin cell, deep in my bones, in one instant and then it’s gone. I scoot back, dropping my feet to the floor.

“Evening, love,”

His voice frightens me into standing and stepping into the wall, face first. I exhale furiously, the new smell of blood in my nose. I take a moment while the pain subsides but fury does the opposite. Then I face him.

“Come to watch me while I sleep, again?” I say through my teeth, holding my nose.

I drop my head on the wall so my nose can lean back, eyes closed, the anger swelling in my chest.

He chuckles and I hear his hand grab the root bars, “I think you’ve spent enough time down here,” he says and the door opens.

I chose to sit down against the wall. How did the door open? He waits a moment realizing I’m not going to move, “By all means stay down here longer, I surely couldn’t care less,” the door closes.

“If that were true, why have you kept me alive all these weeks,” I croak out.

He clears his throat and I hear him kneel down, “I don’t believe someone like you should be down here, Jane,” he says almost genuine.

He spoke to me with respect for the first time. A concept so odd to me I lean forward, placing my arms on my knees, eyebrows knitted.

“What?” I say expecting some kind of trick.

He laughs a quiet laugh, then inhales, “I apologize for calling you a liar,”

All cells go quiet of the hush torment it had this whole time.

I squint at his direction in the darkness, completely suspicious of this new behavior.

“I shouldn’t have thrown you down here,” he stands and opens the door again, “allow me to make it up to you,”

“What do you know?” I ask loudly.

“What?” he falters.

“What happened to change your mind?”

“Smart girl. Tell you what,” he steps into the cell with me where I scramble away, standing up, “I’ll play a game with you, an answer for answer, but,” I hear him step aside, exposing the open doorway, “you gotta come with me,”

“Why, would I go anywhere with you?” I try to sound like I’m not longing to see any source of light.

“The walls have ears,” he whispers, I hear a smile on his mouth.

The defeat exhales from my nose in preparation then I step forward. I feel his cold hand touch my bicep in attempt to guide me but on reflex I hang away.

“Don’t trust me?” he asks, annoyingly playful.

“Don’t trust.” I say right at him so he understands I will never trust him.

I step through the bars and at the very end of the hall, I see a dim, dim light. It brings joy to my cheeks. A warm sense of hope touches my heart. I walk to the light, the exit, the hope. Pan follows behind. The closer I get, the better I see the terribly brown walls and crumpled bodies on the floor of each passing cell. Just one cell from the stairs up and out of this place, a woman throws her arms out, grabbing at my skin. She triggers the painful bruises along my sides, causing me to rage in agony against her. She claws through my shirt, grasping me entirely and slamming me to the bars, where she can hold me tight. I fight away from her, shocked, frightened as she screams.

“No! Don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt him!” tears pour from her eyes, as she shrieks hysteria.

“What the hell, get off!” I angrily yank away, stumbling on the dirt.

Pan clutches my arm, stepping between us.

“Don’t do it! Please! He’s new! He’s new! Please, he’s new!” she shouts louder, clawing at me, her nails breaking skin.

I suck in a painful gasp, pulling away from her.

“Hands off.” Pan says, flicking his wrist.

The woman is thrown back, hard, against the wall of her cell. Her feet off the grounds, she’s pinned by Pan’s hand in the air. I yank from Pan’s grasp and blink at the sight, dumbfounded, until he gives me a shove, to continue up the stairs. I obey, looking back at the crazy woman, in awe at his ability. Her eyes wide, she glares at me, screaming. I feel blood trickle down my arm, I look down at the claw marks and notice my dried bloody knuckles. Pan drops the woman when his hand relaxes to his side, leaving her sobbing on the floor then he follows me up the stairs.

My eyes squeeze shut the brighter the stair case gets, I walk until there are no more steps, temporarily blind. I hold my hands to my eyes, trying to suppress the aching in my bruised torso. I stand at the top of the stairs, waiting to see again, cringing and Pan comes from behind. He walks around me while I continue blink my eyes open, becoming confused at the room around us. The wood grows freely. Couches, chairs, and counters fill the room, all looking hand made. Green vines hang from the ceiling and drape off the walls. The floor is carpeted with red. Many exits sit in the ceiling, from the walls, and in the floor. The wood grows to make windows on all walls. Weapons and clothes litter the floor and furniture as decorative clutter. A bar-like area sits in the corner, trashed with horn cups and glass bottles.

“What the hell was that?” I ask angry, as the stinging pain pulls me from examining the room.

“That was a crazy nurse. There’s quite a few here,” he says casually walking over to a maroon couch, “Have a seat.”

The deep red, stained, couch looks, worn down, broken, and rotting.

“I think, I’m ok,” I hold my cut arm.

“Here,” he takes a seat on the arm of the couch with his boots on the cushion, “not going to hurt you,” he pats the seat beside him.

“Alright,” he reaches for the counter, with the beverages, and a cup comes flying to his palm. He grasps it and hands it out for me.

I step to him, looking inside of the cup to try and hide the astonished look on my face, “It’s empty,”

“Is it?” he asks with a light smile on his face.

I take it, staring at it. The closer it comes to me, the fuller it fills with clear water. My mind explodes in new wonder of the magic this boy has. The stranger in the dark with his tales of nonsense is becoming more believable in my mind. Pan really does have so much power, more than I know. I bring the cup to my mouth, hoping that feeling refreshed by water will calm the wondering thoughts of just how powerful Pan really is.

“Better?” he says when its all gone.

I shake my head. He waits and I proceed to take the seat on the opposite end of the couch.

“Answers. Now.” I demand.

“I believe to get an answer, a question must be asked,” he jumps from the couch and walks the room.

When he got up my cup refilled. I stare at it and watch every detail of the way the water whirls around from the bottom of the cup until it reaches just before the brim and settles so gently. I want to shake my head in disbelief but instead I bring the cup to my mouth a second time.

“Why’d you change your mind,” I ask when I’ve finished it again.

“I can admit, I over reacted the day of your arrival, but in my defense you are a sight for sore eyes,” he had picked something up and brought it back over to me.

He hands it to me, and I see its a piece of broken mirror. I look at myself, startled at the crazed girl in the broken glass. My eyes red and watering, around my eyes are puffy and dry. Dirt splatters my face, my hair. Blood sits under my nose, dried mostly. A small bruise on my cheek, another on my neck, small red nicks sit on my cheekbones and chin. One long lash down the left of my throat, nearly across it. I don’t know where to begin to clean. I go for under my nose to wipe the blood but my dirty hand catches my eye, muddier than my patched face.

I exhale, dropping my hand with the mirror, “That’s not an answer,”

“I came to my senses,” he says raising his eyebrows.

“How long was I down there?”

“Ah, ah, play by the rules, it’s my turn,”

“I’ll owe you one, how long?” I growl out.

“One night,”

My mouth drops.

“Down there is different though, for you...it could’ve been days...longer,”

I stumble for words, and the cup refills again. I drink it to calm myself and comprehend. When he cup is empty, yet again, I ask, “What did you do in that night?”

“Research.”

“On?”

“You.”

“Why?”

His face becomes confused but I don’t believe it for some reason, “Miss Jane, you really know nothing of the power you posses.”

I blink, “Answer me, why?”

“Because I don’t know why you’re here,” and for the first time he spoke to me honesty in his voice, “I researched you because you have such a powerful belief that it can’t go ignored.”

I squint again, “That’s, what-tell me why I’m here,” I spit completely disregarding his rubbish.

He shrugs, “I, truly,” he looks me in the eye, “do not know why. I cannot answer that question,”

“We had a deal, you tell me what I wanna know, I come with you.”

“I believe the deal was an answer for an answer, as you now owe me five, but I what I found wasn’t plausible, I still am not certain why you ended up here...or how for that matter,”

“I told you how, the de-”

“And I told you Shadow didn’t do it. Either you’re still lying, or my shadow is being impersonated, which, by the way, isn’t possible,”

I grind my teeth hard, deciding to drop the subject that we can’t seem to agree on, “What did you find?”

“Nonsense.”

“Then why are you keeping me here?”

“I think, maybe, it’s my turn for...six questions, yes?” he toys with a small knife I hadn’t noticed.

“I’m not done,”

“You’ll have another turn, but for now,” he walks to me slowly.

I release the cup and mirror on the couch and stand, not wanting him towering over me.

“Where’d this come from?” he uses the tip of the knife to lightly graze my skin and lift the rubber band around my wrist.

I squint another time, suddenly confused at the item, Where, DID that come from?

“Uh, um,” I stammer, trying to recall.

He gives me a look like he’s waiting for me to lie to him.

“I-I don’t remember,” I tell him.

I yank away from his pulling knife and it snaps into a useless string, hitting the ground.

“Now, now, Miss Jane, play the game fair. I was honest, wasn’t I?” he takes steps back.

I realize then, he is toying with me. Showing me fake honesty, playing with my head, “This isn’t a game, not everybody plays games-”

“We do here,” his stare becomes possessive.

“I don’t. I’m not.” I’m getting frustrated all over again, “and I’m not lying either, I don’t remember. What does it even matter?”

He shakes his head, “My turn for questions, not yours,” he sighs, “but, figures you don’t remember, I doubt you realized when you did it,” he tosses the knife into the floor, blade first.

“What does that mean? Did what?”

“Miss Jane, you must be aware of how games work, one turn at a time, it is mine,”

He’s just messing with me! He’s an insane person playing a game all by himself in his head. I’m angry enough to fight now.

He takes my quiet anger as cooperation.

“What exactly is all my fault?” he asks.

I look up at him with a glare, “What?”

“The other night, you went spouting off about ‘it’s all my fault, it’s all because of me,’” he does air quotes.

Is he trying to push my buttons? Does he want me angry?

I pick at the shoulders of my dirt and blood brown shirt, “This is the uniform of an insane person,” I say through a closed jaw.

His smirk appears, “You’re saying you are insane?” then he scoffs at me.

My anger rises, “That’s exactly it. Because of YOU, they locked me away. No one believes people fly, you must know that,” I don’t break the stare we hold.

He does when he turns around, “I see. When was this?”

“What do you care? Why are you in my life?” I whine the last part only to myself.

“Surely, you don’t think I meant to have you locked up?”

“I’m not so sure.”

“How could I have possibly known you’d speak so often of me while I was away?” he chuckles that stupid amused laugh, “I couldn’t have known you couldn’t get me out of your head,” he tilts his head and starts walking to me. He’s making fun of me! I ball my fists. “You shut the fuck up! You have no clue what you’re responsible for. You think you were slick but you’re a fool. A lunatic. Nothing but a stupid child with too much power for WHAT reason?” He looks surprised for one moment only, then he’s back to smirking at my reaction but I can’t help it. “And to think I actually believed in you as an escape from that horror, but you’re your own show! God, I was stupid for falling for it!” I throw my anger in a fist at his face, but he dissolves into thin air.

He was right in front of my face, then gone. I’m startled and feel him appear behind me. Too startled to wonder of yet another ability he has, I whip around to strike him but he blocks my blow to quick for comprehension, I’m not even sure I moved to strike him yet.

“Yes, you were,” he shoves me way and drops the playful tone, “And you’re still being stupid. You can’t hurt me.” he steps to me and I know he’s doing it to make me feel small. “No matter how much you might want to,” he sneers with a mean smirk, “Now, I still get three more answers,” I stand tall, “I’m not giving you anything until you explain why you’re keeping me here,” I spit the words at him, wishing he’d back up. “I already did,” “You bullshit me.” I glare. “So much fire,” he says clicking his tongue. Then he backs up to ask me a question with an entire mood shift, yet again, “Now tell me, did you feel different back home?” “What? “Did you feel different from others? Special, extra, wrong, odd-” “This is childish nonsense. I want answers. Now. Or-” “Or what?” he looks at me. I look to the door. He follows my gaze then looks back at me with a smirk, “It’s quite clear you hate me,” “With passion,” I manage to say through a closed jaw. Shit. I answered him. “Fear me?” I hesitate. “You blame me for your imprisonment?” “It wasn’t just-, nothing would have happened had you never shown yourself.” Stop answering questions. “What was done to you during your imprisonment?”

I stare at him. Not because that question hurt to answer, but because the more I give him answers the more I let him play with me. I feel only fury as I try to avoid his game, it weakens me. He reads my exhausted expression and lack of speech, he takes the hint.

“Alright, alright, answer my last question and you’ll get one last answer,’” I clench my jaw, furious with the fact that he has control over the conversation. “How did you get here?” his eyes dare me to repeat the answer he doesn’t believe. My eyes widen. He still thinks I’m lying. “I already told you.” I spit through my teeth.

He stares at me, deciding if he’ll believe I’m not lying. He squints at me and I hold the glare right back until, finally, he backs up, bowing his head and gesturing at me to ask my last question. I exhale, figuring he now knows I’m not lying. But now a million more questions come to mind, wondering why the demon grabbed me, why the ‘shadow’ is his but he doesn’t know why it snatched me. I feel so angry and so alone from the facts that Pan will only answer one more question, and that he could be so stubbornly in control. He just might be the evil ruler the man in the cell claimed, so maybe I’ll forever be helpless. I shake my head wondering how he can be so powerfully cruel. Then I choose my last question.

“What happened to you?” His face falters, “What?” “You are different, entirely. I remember… you saved my life.” our stare holds and I see him remember saving me from falling off the building all that time ago, “and now, you’ve...” I fade, attention being drawn to my torn, bloody clothes. His face softens and I know that he knows what he did. “If you didn’t plot all of this, then what happened in those five years?” I ask. The question triggers him. His jaw clenches, he’s suddenly so, very angry at me, “It was a hell of a lot longer than five bloody years.” Then he was gone.

A dizziness spins throughout my head. I blink, realizing he wasn't gone, I was. The room dissolved to a much smaller, much darker room. A bedroom. One second we were together in a sitting room. The next second, I’m alone in a dim bedroom. I glance halfway behind me, confused.

Did...he...teleport me?

In front of me a window takes the center of the wall. No glass or curtains on the odd window, just the wood growing away from itself to created a sloppy square in the wall, like the ones in the sitting room. A large bed sits to my left, it’s headboard against the center of the wall. A rocking chair by the foot of it. Directly across from the bed, sits a sad dresser with a big, shiny mirror on top it. Scanning the room I spot a door that hangs on the wall beside the dresser. I run for it, grasping the handle and yanking it open. I exhale to see the disappointing closet. Then looking back to the wall that was behind me when I showed up in here, I see another door I hadn’t notice. I quickly waddle to it, afraid of another closet.

I pull it open, hard, to see just darkness. Pitch black, but it doesn’t stop me from running through it. My head buzzes intensely, knocking me senseless for a second. I’m facing the room when I blink away the dizziness. Even more confused, I turn around anyway back through the door, only to get dizzy again and face the room. I stare at the room I just walked out of twice. For a third time I turn to the door running through the threshold again, only to step back into the room, the dizziness doubling up and knocking me to my knees.

“The fuck! Again?” I shout out all the rage building up since I left the cell. Trapped. A-fucking-gain! I can’t leave. When I step out, I just step back in. How is that possible? What? More magic? I can’t leave. I’m trapped. I can’t leave.

I sit on my knees, blinking away the angry tears that rise without consent. I wonder back to the thought of imagining everything. Imagining the door that leads into the same room and the root doors that don’t really open or close. Maybe there is no spirit, no Pan, no beach to land on, and maybe I’m still in the asylum, high on the forced drugs. The thought of the possibility that drugs could be making me hallucinate this badly only pisses me off more.

It’s the memory of blasting all those boys away with anger that I took from Pan that brings me back to the decision that it isn’t just my imagination. This is all happening. After the decision is made, I gather myself to focus on the problem at hand. Escaping. Wiping tears, and cleaning my face with the two white spots left on my shirt, I straighten my hair and push it behind my ears, leaving the pity party.

The door isn’t going to be an option, so I look to the window. One last sniffle and I slowly get up off the floor walking to the window even slower, dreading anymore tricks. As walk passed the bed I slide my fingers over the soft fabric. Dirt smudges onto the pretty linen and I withdrawal my fingers. Then I hear it. The music.

The instrument I heard the first night, the one I followed into the woods. A pipe or flute playing. Instead of the soft and peaceful song, it’s an upbeat and exciting tempo. Hearing it causes me to run to the window. My palms thump on the wooden window sill and I become sick at what I see.

The ground is far. Far enough to make my stomach jump up to slap my heart. I’m forced to pull back and away from the height and blink away nauseous black spots. I breathe through the nausea and look back out the window starting at the far view, instead of straight down. I see the ocean far away. In the very distant, touching the black, star speckled, sky. A lagoon curves in the closer distance at the edge of the forest. The water shines, from the bright moon sitting above the thick, flourishing forest in every direction. The forest looks alive. It moves with the wind as one. Beyond the forest the valley sits in the mountains on the left. It’s beautiful.

The forest crawls close and seems to grow louder the closer my eyes crawl to what’s right beneath me. The tree line stops just beyond the canopy of the enormous tree I reside in. A campsite litters the clearing around the tree. Tents and wood makings sit organized in the open dirt. Barrels and crates, chairs, tables, and worst of all, boys. A blazing fire burns below my window. So big, I can feel the heat from all the way up here, meters and meters above the ground.

Most boys surround the fire in a madness of a dance. They run around the flames with hollers exclaiming from their throats. They jump between hot coals and each other while cheering. They dance like beasts on a clock, making their way in a circle. They sound of a mix of young men and wild animals. They’re lost in the night, not a care in the world except for their next step. The beat of drums echoes behind the flute music I’m searching for.

My eyes drift over them all and then I spot him. On a large rock, near the blazing fire pit, he sits crisscross, a line of wooden pipes in his hands, at his mouth. He plays with pride and ease. His fingers run along the hollowed pipes projecting the bouncy tune. He matches every pound of drums playing, and challenges it, rising the energy of the party. I nearly feel it from up here.

I blink at the sight of him relaxed, unaware of me, for the first time. The truth hits me like a rock in the face. He was the song player. He was calling me through the woods that night I arrived. He played the song for me to follow. It was just more magic. He knew I was here. He must have brought me here, and is just lying, insisting that I’m the one lying about how I ended up here. More anger uploads into my chest.

He’s been using magic ever since the moment I got here! I stir in the new anger. What kind of game is he playing? He’s lying, he’s got an agenda. Is this room even real? I hug my shoulders, feeling lonely and lost in the facts of the magic tricks. I can’t even touch him, let alone try to kill him, or even escape. What does he want?

My eyes unfocused from the scene below and my legs decide to take a break. I sit on the floor my back to the window. I feel like I don’t know a single thing and trying to figure one thing out just confuses me more. I feel like the more I discover the less I know. It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless. He has every advantage. I’ve done everything he’s wanted me to do since the moment I got here. From running through that horror forest to giving him information and the satisfaction of not being able to do anything about it.

I sit lost. I don’t know if I should cry or rage out, or just end the nightmare right now and jump out of the window. The longer I sit, the angrier I get. My heart beats faster, my fists clench tighter. I loathe him for making me feel so small and alone and lost. I hate his magic and all the power he has.

I shake my head in disappointment and rage, clenching my jaw. Suddenly, the rage is changing into a daring curiosity. I wonder if what I have is enough to escape him. I know my only choice is to have what it takes or else I’ll end up like that old man in the cells. I feel challenged to beat this power spoken boy, and nearly excited to win.

I could take him on. The thought of besting him fuels me entirely. He panicked when I snatched that red glow from him, that’s enough for me.

And even though I have no idea of how I managed to do what I did, it’s enough to drive me to at lease try. Try to escape him. I have to just try. The need to discover a way to escape this whole place is quickly overtaking. This new driven feeling has been felt before. I try to place the needy feeling but it’s only familiar. I try remembering how I know this needy aching to learn and win. A crave for fun, or an experience.

Finally, I place the feeling from a memory. It’s what I felt when I used to fly in my dreams. Then, remembering this, I jump to my knees, peeking out the windowsill at the boy who caused everything. That’s why I can’t let any of it go. He can fly, and I saw flying as the escape from the terrible world back home. He was a hero to be, but instead, he abused the gift so that he could have his own playground. He’s wasted everything I’ve ever longed for. He has a paradise here and he runs a prison on it. He can fly, he can enjoy the feeling of limitless happiness and craving fun, yet he wastes it all to be a cruel dictator.

“A fucking waste,” I whisper to myself. I bet I’m not even the first one he’s done this to.

I want to hurt him, I want to kill him. He is the reason I was sent back to the asylum and tested on. He is the reason I lost my home, my life, and time and time again, my freedom. He owes me so much suffering. I sit back down on the floor as I make the decision to not waste this night on sleep. I will take the night to devise a plan that will make him suffer until we are even. And I can worry about getting back to London after. I will not waste a single opportunity, and I’ll find a way to beat Peter Pan before he beats me.

His P.O.V. The Lost Boys dance around the particularly big fire tonight. They have always loved showing off on a new comers first night. Rumors are spreading between them. They’ve heard whispers from Pixies and such. They are confused about the girl being here brother-less and staying two nights alive. I don’t blame them for it, it’s most unusual and unsettling in fact, for them. I sit on a tall rock beside the fire pit. I know the girl watches. I can feel her presence unnervingly so. I’m so aware of her, it’s upsetting. She possesses so much power, that she doesn’t deserve. Everyone saw what she did.

The boys’ vibes are high tonight. They’re truly enjoying themselves with or without an explanation about the girl. Unfortunately, I can’t join them. I’m too occupied with the answers the girl gave me. So, I play the Song of the Giants while they all dance as a distraction from my uneasiness. I play loudly ensuring my enjoyment, no doubt.

It grows late. She’s not watching anymore. Probably figured out she can’t leave the room by now so sulking on the floor or something. My song long since over. Some boys retire off to the side and watch the remaining flames blaze. Others fall to the floor, exhausted from the trance of the fire. Most take refuge inside of Hideout. My right hand, Michael, walks to me.

“You don’t seem on it tonight,” sounds like a question. “It’s the girl, isn’t it?” “The girl?” I scoff, “She’s our next project,” I say thinking of what the seer Pixie told me. “That’s why she’s still here,” he puts it together. I notice more of the others falling down one at a time. New music has taken over. I crack a smile, “Surely, you’ve noticed,” “What is it? The cover around her. She came from the Mainland, didn’t she?’ “She did.” “Then, how does she have that...shield?” I look at him, “Everyone knows the Mainland has no magic, everyone knows magic is created by belief, faith, hope, all that,” He nods. “Meaning people in the Mainland don’t believe. Why do you think it’s called the Hopeless Realm? No one has hope, no magic. But what happens when one of them does believe?” I point my finger up at her window, shaking. “She believes more than any being I’ve ever met,” “She’s got magic,” “I don’t understand how, or why her. But that power is wasted, and it’s up to us to save it from being thrown away,” “You’re going to take it from her,” he says understanding now. “But, she blasted us away through emotion, she could’ve just gotten lucky. It’s not unlikely.” “She was imprisoned on the Mainland, in a place for those who believe. See, over there, the ones who have hope are kept away and tortured, so that they loose it...all of it,” I gesture at my wits. “They’re stripped of everything,” He looks at me waiting for my point. “And yet she some how had a rubber band,” “You’re saying she made it through imprisonment with her own magic? It is real power, how?” “She is gifted undeservingly so. Unless one of my Lost Boys dropped a female’s accessory, this one can not only use Neverland’s magic, but has her own source,” “She is like that one girl, the odd one with the water-witching,” I wave my hand at him, “The one who claimed to visit the Other Realm, she was a dark soul, wasn’t she?” I joke with him. He finds his humor, “She could use Neverland’s power,” I nod, “She could, but Jane acts clueless and angry. We need to make her believe she can trust us so we can find out what she really knows, and what she can really do,” “So that’s the plan,” he looks up at the empty window, she stays in. I nod with a closed smile, “Who knows, M,” I say his initial as code, then slip off the rock, placing an arm around his shoulder. “If she survives the extract, she may just be a fiery new recruit.” “This one is going to be fun,” We walk to the fire now. “Word has come from over the North Mountains. Another battle was fought today,” he says after a moment. “No politics, right now, there’s a celebration at hand,” I spread my arms at the fire. “The Pirates keep coming,” he says. “Not my problem,” I say at him, joining the very few troopers left dancing.

[barbarianiswriting]

pre existing dpdr and edibles.

to start- this is my personal experience im not saying what you should or shouldnt do.

first, i should say i usually have a good time after taking a gummy. i get giggly, a bit disoriented but light. i have dpdr, so i never really minded the 'not feeling real' aspect of gummies. thats my everyday and all the gummy does is make me not mind that feeling for once in my life. what im saying is ive taken gummies enough to know what to do and how to monitor myself.

so thats why i was super caught off guard when i had a bad trip last night. im not sure why.  i took a gummy as i always do- even better considering i did it on a full stomach. everything was fine at first but soon enough i started panicking. everything felt like a dream or a memory, way worse than usual. like something you recall with gaps. like i was daydreaming a story i havent thought all the way through and keep skipping around. it was like blinking in and out of existence. it was as i normally feel but cranked up to an unbearable and terrifying level. i was hyperventilating, crying, and screamed some. i was constantly shaking throughout everything. my body was convulsing and my teeth were chattering, as i usually do when im dead tired. i am most sure i had multiple panic attacks- or one long one. i had to keep repeating i was awake and that everything was real. i was mortified that i did all this in front of people. still am. granted, i of course tried to separated myself from others when i realized what was happening. but unfortunately felt it best to have my sibling, whom i was visiting, monitor me- particularly if i was holding something, checking in on me when i had a door closed, etc. at the very beginning i had them try and hug me from the back to see if that would help, as i remembered from online- an attempt to calm the panicking person, articles ive read had said. it most certainly did not. apparently every other sense was imperative to helping me but touch from others was detrimental. could not stand it. but then again, i cant stand it normally so i should have guessed. im grateful that eating helped. it was a good sensory experience. brighter lights i also believed helped. watching tv and very intently trying to keep up with the show. anytime i put my head down and closed my eyes, effectively depriving me of sight and 'reality'- as distorted as it was- was unendurable. im still not sure if my usual issues with dpdr helped or worsened the experience. on one hand, it meant that i knew, on some level, that whatever i was feeling was indeed trickery and i knew how to attempt to ground myself with what i know how to. on the other, it was taunting me with the knowledge of how much worse my life could be- making me terrified it would never wear off because i already have dpdr. luckily, i got control of my breathing, crying, and screaming relatively soon enough. i could then talk and hold conversation. this is where i believe my everyday dpdr experience helped- i was equipped with the ability to ignore im not real. of course it would come back worse over and over again, but luckily i did not break down fully again- even if my composure wasnt fully there (crying, some shortness of breath. never fully lost though). after an hour or so, forgive me for my inability to recall the time, i eventually felt alright enough to cognitively brush my teeth, get into bed, and scroll pinterest while watching bobs burgers till i fell asleep. which, thankfully, came soon. i woke up with no ill affects, besides the carried over mortification. im mainly writing this down for my own good- so i remember or whatnot. i am alright and of sound enough mind today- but my dpdr has become a forefront in my mind. i will never take a gummy outside my own home again (and not for awhile, i should assume). i am still confused as to what could've happened to make it so bad, though, as i had taken one earlier this week, friday, and was perfectly fine and happy. i am quite frankly stumped. it doesnt matter now i suppose. i just wanted to let anyone else already dealing w dpdr who may be thinking of taking edibles that it really can go either way and you gotta weigh the pros and cons. cause imo, theyre quite extreme pros and cons

[lokis-army-77]

Safe With Me Pt. 2

Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 2340

This is a fix-it fic of season four of Stranger things. It follows the show, for the most part, I have just changed a few things so that I could add the character of the Reader.

The day after Eddie is found, he and the reader go into Rick's house.

Warning: Weed, that's it I think.

Main Masterlist (taglist linked here) Series Masterlist

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Early the next morning, I woke up to the peaceful sound of water sloshing about and the warm tug of a pair of arms around my waist. Yawning, I turned over to snuggle into the chest of the person holding me. 

“Good morning Sweetheart.” Came his gruff morning voice. 

I smiled. “Morning Eds.” I could feel his breath tickling my hair as he kissed the top of my head. 

“How’d ya sleep?” He asked, rubbing his hands along my side.

“As good as a person can on a wooden floor. I think I might have a crick in my neck.” I laughed. 

He chuckled at my response, “Yeah, me too.”

I gripped onto him harder, having just woken up, my body went from being comfortable to freezing in the cool spring morning air. Eddie’s arms tugged me in closer to him. 

“You cold?” He asked. All he needed for an answer were my chattering teeth. 

Setting us up, he quickly tugged off his vest and leather jacket and laid them over my shoulders. The warmth of him permeated from the jacket through me, calming my shakes and shivers. 

“I should have brought a sweater yesterday.” I chastised myself.

“It’s okay, I’ll keep you warm, baby.” Eddie smiled and pulled me sideways into his lap. I leaned my head on his shoulder as I looked down at my hands on my lap. 

“When do you think the others will be here?” I asked.

“No clue, but it better be soon, I’m fucking starving. I haven’t eaten since I ran out of those snack bars at lunch yesterday.”

“Yeah, I don’t even think I ate yesterday come to think of it. Dustin and Max woke me up at half past twelve looking for you and then it was just hectic after that.” To further prove my point of having not eaten, my stomach growled. 

Eddie’s laugh jostled me in his lap. “Yeah, I think your stomach is fixing to eat itself.”

It was then, that we heard the sound of a vehicle. Not knowing if it was our friends or someone less friendly, Eddie and I jumped up in a panic. Eddie grabbed his weapon of choice, the broken beer bottle, and ran to look out the window.

“Do you see anyone?” I whispered.

“No, probably someone just driving by.” He visibly relaxed a bit as he turned away from the window to look back at me. 

Suddenly the doors to the boat house slammed open. In shock, I let out a scream, only to realize it was our friends with bags of groceries.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie spat, holding his chest like he was having a heart attack. 

“Fuck you guys. You could have knocked or something. You know, make your presence known?” I said exasperated. 

“Sorry,” Dustin cringed. “But we brought sustenance.” He and the others held up a plethora of bagged food and drinks.

“Oh thank god.” Eddie cried out as he went straight for the bag that had a cereal box in it. Tearing it open, he stalked over to the boat to take a seat inside. The others followed and sat on various things surrounding the boat. 

I took my time finding digging through the bag of food before settling on two Rice Krispie Treats and two Yoohoos for me and Eddie to drink.

“Did you guys only buy junk food?” I asked as I stepped over into the boat, handing Eddie his drink as I sat beside him.

“Uh, yeah?” Robin replied, sounding like she was questioning herself. 

I just shook my head before tearing into the Rice Krispies.

“Okay well,” Distin clapped his hands together. “We have some good news and some bad news. Which would you like first?”

“Bad news fists, always.” Eddie stated in an almost ‘duh’ tone.

“Bad news it is. So we tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro and they are definitely looking for you. They are also pretty convinced you killed Crissy.” Dustin broke the news.

“Like one hundred percent convinced.” Added Max.

Eddie's face slackened, the Honey Comb cereal he had shoved into his mouth, falling out. 

“So what’s the good news? I asked after taking a swig of my drink.

“Good news is that Eddie’s name hasn't gone public, but if we found out,” Robin raised her hand in a gesture to the group, “it's only a matter of time before others figure it out. And when it gets out, everyone in this town will be gunning for you”

“Shit.” I groaned under my breath.

“Ha, Hunt the freak, right?” Eddie scoffed. 

“Before that happens,” Dusting interjected with his plan. “All we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.”

“That's all Dustin. That's all?” Eddie asked sarcastically.

“That’s easier said than done there kid. We don’t have El, we don’t have Hop, and we are missing half the group.” I pointed out. “Like I know we have fought monsters before but we had help. We had real help.” 

“Uh, it’s more like a uh-” Robin started.

“A brainstorming phase.” Max finished and everyone agreed with her. 

Eddie sat beside me looking concerned and completely lost. 

“Look, Eddie, there is nothing to worry about.” Dustin smiled and Steve struggled to keep a laugh in. 

Eddie and I just looked at them like they were crazy. Eddie groaned and leaned his head on my shoulder, but I moved him off of me instantly when the sound of sirens blared down the road. 

“Get down.” I panicked, pushing Eddie down into the hull of the boat before jumping out. “Grab the tarp.” Eddie did as I said and the rest of us went to the windows to watch what was happening. 

What seemed like the whole of the police department along with the fire department and an ambulance came racing past Reefer Rick’s and on down the road. 

“What do you think happened?” I asked.

“Don’t know, but I think we should go check it out,” Steve muttered. 

“Come on, we can come back by later.” Dustin grabbed my hand but I tore it away. 

“No, like I said last night, I’m not leaving Eddie by himself. You guys go, leave a walkie here with us.” I moved back over to the boat to pull the tarp off of Eddie. 

“Okay, but be careful. Radio if anything happens.” Dustin dug around in his backpack before handing me his walkie. 

“You guys stay safe too.” I waived after them as they walked out the door. 

Huffing, I sat down. “So? Now what?” 

“Um, well, I think Rick has some cards in the house. We could break in and play, TV has been broken since before he was arrested so we are SOL on that.” Eddie pointed out.

“Wait, hold on, you’re telling me we could have slept inside the house this whole time and not in a fucking boat house?”

“Yep.” He said, popping the p.

“Eddie,” I whined. 

“Don’t Eddie me, we can go up there now. We just have to make sure no one is on the lake.” He jumped out of the boat and took hold of the bags Dustin and the others had brought. 

I left the building first, watching the area to make sure the coast was clear before waiving Eddie on. I followed him to the back porch where he kicked open the screen door and went directly to a rusty-looking grill that obviously hadn’t been used in ages. Taking the lid off, Eddie dug through the ashes and picked out a key. 

“Ah-ha!” He exclaimed, holding up the key like it was a precious treasure.

“Who keeps their spare key in a barbeque grill? That's nasty.” 

“Well, you obviously wouldn’t have looked there,” he said as he unlocked the back door, pushing it open and gesturing for me to go in. “M’lady,” He grinned. 

The place was stuffy and definitely what you would think it would look like on the inside. Dirty and dingy. 

“I see why you never brought me along to buy your supply.” I ran my fingers along the kitchen counter, making a face of disgust when they came away covered in dust. “How long did you say he’s been in jail?” 

“Uh, like four months, but before that, he had only been three weeks from being in jail for almost six months,” Eddie answered as he placed the grocery bags on the table beside me. 

“Wow, okay then.” I thought for a second. “Wait, if he’s always in jail then how does he sell you all the weed?”

“Well,” Eddie started to unpack all the food from the bags. “I usually just buy the whole lot off of him, which lasts for a while, I’ve never run out before he’s gotten out of jail so,” he just shrugged. "Plus, I have other people I buy from."

“Huh, I guess that makes sense.” I moved on from the kitchen, and walked through the house, being nosey. The place looked awful, and I could feel my nose starting to tingle with an oncoming fit of sneezes because of how dirty it was. Going around the house, I tested the lights, and they worked but I immediately turned them off, not wanting anyone to see that they were on.

“What are you doing?” 

I jumped at the sudden sound of Eddie’s voice behind me. Although, I couldn’t jump far since his arms had wrapped around my waist. 

“You scared me.” I laughed, throwing my head back onto his shoulder. 

“I don’t you why, I’m the one who should be jumpy.” He teased. “But really, what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I brought my hands to rub at his which were clasped together at my front. “Just thought I would look around. Maybe find some contraband and those cards you spoke of.” I giggled as he leaned into my neck, his hair tickling my skin.

“Ah, I see. Well, you won’t find any drugs in the guest bedroom.” He kissed my neck before pulling away, keeping a pair of our hands clasped together. He pulled me along the hallway to a dark room which, from the sliver of light coming in through the window, I figured must have been Rick’s bedroom. “Wait there.” Eddie left me by the bedroom door so he could go digging around in the closet. A moment later he came back to me with a little baggie of weed and rolling papers. 

“Now what about those cards?” I asked, taking the baggie from him. 

“Those would be in the living room.” He smiled before tugging me along once again. 

The rest of the day went by slowly, the weed and the excess boredom of not being able to go anywhere contributed greatly to the almost nonexistent passage of time. There were only so many times we could play Go-Fish or Old Maid since having smoked, that we couldn’t figure out the rules for anything more complicated than those two games. 

“I am so fucking bored. What time is it?” I asked, laying back on the floor, using Eddie’s discarded jacket and best as a pillow. We had both been seated criss-cross on opposite sides of the living room coffee table. 

“It’s a quarter past three.” Eddie sighed.

“Ugh. I’m dying of boredom.”

“Come here, baby.” Eddie made grabby hands at me for the other side of the table. I smiled and crawled my way to him on my hands and knees. “Let’s finish this blunt and then we can just take a nap. How's that sound? Hum?” 

I nodded into his shoulder before taking the blunt from his fingers and taking a few long drags. 

It wasn’t long before we had finished smoking and Eddie was sluggishly leading me to the guest bedroom and tucking us both under the dusty covers. 

“Hey, Eddie?” I asked as I curled up into his chest. 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Are you scared?” I clung to him, my mind fuzzy from smoking.

“More than I care to fuckin’ admit.” His arms held me tightly and even though we were warm under the covers, I felt Eddie shiver.  “Never thought I’d be the one to run when things got tough, but here I am, a coward.” He sighed into my hair.

I looked up and him, bringing my hand to caress up his neck and cradle his cheek. “You aren’t a coward Eds, you’re human.” He stared at me with his big chocolate brown eyes, they looked even bigger as his pupils dilated in the low light. “I would have run too if I didn’t know what was going on.” 

He gave me a lopsided smile. “Thanks, sweetheart, you always know how to make me feel better.” I smiled as he leaned his head down and pressed his chapped lips on my forehead in a tender kiss. “I just,” He choked out, “I just feel awful for leaving her there you y’know? Like I didn’t try hard enough to save her.”

I pushed myself up in Eddie’s hold so his head was not westing against my chest and I was holding onto him protectively. “There was nothing you could have done, nothing anyone could have done Eddie. We know nothing about how Vecna operates or what he wants, there was nothing that could have saved her.” 

Eddie sniffled, burying his head into my chest. “I just keep thinking, what if it had been you? What if it was you dangling from the ceiling with me standing there helpless.” He started to weep, tears dampening my t-shirt. 

I just held onto him, not knowing what else I could do or say. My hands rubbed circles into his back and across his bare arms. “Shhh, it’s okay,” I whispered, trying to soothe him.

He cried into my chest for a while before his breaths evened out, becoming more relaxed as he fell asleep in my arms. The grip he had on my waist was tight, but I didn’t mind, it let me know he was going nowhere. 

So, I pulled the covers up around us and drifted off to sleep with him.

Eddie Taglist: @loveofmylife12@ellabellabus07@wickedwitchofwest@siriusstwelveyears@ameliakf13 @milly-louise @darkscrossfire @harrypotter-posts @dedeinspire @ccosmic-illusion @eddiesbirdie @castiels-gracex @luvwanda

[a-storied-mindx]

Oh, today is not good.

I tossed and turned all night, I slept awful and in addition, my nightmares are back which is never good.

I woke up feeling awful again. I cried almost as soon as I opened my eyes because I didn’t want to be awake. I don’t want to be awake right now. I don’t want to have to see anything or anyone, hear anything, feel anything. I just want to feel nothing. Or maybe some pain?

My head feels weird. I have this really uncomfortable pressure and I just can’t think straight. My mind is going so fast that I can’t keep up. My hands are shaking. My teeth even keep chattering because I’m shaking so bad. I just want the pain to stop so bad. I havnt felt this bad in years. I want to feel happy. I want to smile. I want to laugh. I want to enjoy talking to people and go and do things.

J offered to take me to the range today and I don’t even feel like doing that. I just cried and went to another room. I feel hopeless. I feel helpless. All I did today was make J breakfast. I wasn’t hungry but he made me eat a banana.

I just don’t want to be awake.

Side note: mm, I’m terribly sorry if the reading offended you. I was under the impression since a lot of what you talk about is enjoying dark things, crystals, etc. and have mentioned tarot a few times that it was something you were interested in. It’s difficult for me to know for certain since I can’t see your page or anything like that, I just go off your words. I was not trying to insult your religion etc. apologies again.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Wrecker x Reader: Cold and Cuddles

  (Author’s Note: I’m one of those people that is literally almost always cold.  I woke up this morning to my room being super chilly.  I’m not entirely sure why, but it seems like my room is the only one that gets so cold XD  I was kind of livid and wishing I had some warm cuddles, so here we are! Enjoy!)

    You stirred from your deep slumber at the uncomfortable sensation in your shoulder. You lifted your head to see it was left exposed by the blanket, a shudder running through your body. Cold had been the culprit to wake you, so you shifted to pull your entire body back under the blanket where hopefully the warmth would return.

   Honestly, sometimes you were irritated at how cold the guys kept it on the ship.  It was understandable that they were human furnaces for the most part, but every now and then your patience would wear off when it was especially chilly.

   Another shudder. There was even the chatter of teeth for a moment. Even through your tired haze, an idea popped into your mind. Rather than wait for your own body heat to warm the space under the blanket, maybe you could borrow someone else's warmth? Being cold on some of these missions with a squad that handled uncomfortable temperatures wasn't anything new, and usually Wrecker was the one to help you out. He'd put an arm around you and rub your arm to get some friction going or take your hands in his if they were cold with a, "don't worry, _______, I've got your back!"

   Surely, he'd be okay with helping you? It might not be the most professional thing, but then again the squad in general wasn't always about following the rules.

   You figured there wasn't any harm in asking.  If anyone understood, it was Wrecker. He made you feel safe, not just from physical danger, but safe enough to be vulnerable with him at times.  You pulled back the covers and slipped out of your bunk, hugging your form as you tiptoed across the hall. The door to Wrecker's quarters slid open, and you peeked in to see that it was very dark in there, but you could see the outline of the tallest Bad Batcher asleep on his bunk, his chest rising and falling with each snore. You took in the sight affectionately, part of you hating the idea of waking him but also needing to be warm and go back to sleep.

   You approached his bunk, reaching out a hand to gently shake his shoulder.

   Nothing.  He just kept snoring.

   “Wrecker?” you whispered, giving him another nudge.  This time, he stirred.  He rolled over to acknowledge you with a tired grunt.  “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you.  It’s just really cold in my room.  It woke me up actually, and I just was wondering if I could stay here for a while?”

   That seemed to wake him up a little more because he blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes.  “Uh, yeah,” he nodded, pulling himself in toward the wall as much as he could.  That’s when you realized there might not be enough space for the both of you on his bunk that barely fit him.  As if he read your mind, he chuckled.  “It might not be roomy, but you’ll be warm in no time.”  His sentence ended in a yawn.

   You smiled and crawled in next to him.  The space there was already toasty, but Wrecker was a whole other level of warmth.  He was heart-breakingly warm, and you pretty much melted against him.

   “Thank you so much,” you murmured.  “This feels better.”

   “Wow, you are cold,” he mused, draping an arm over you protectively.  “Oh, wait.  Here.”  He retreated from your form for just a second and reached somewhere behind him before you saw a familiar tooka doll in front of your face.

   “Aw, hi Lula,” you said, happily taking the doll in your arms.  Wrecker’s arm returned to pulling you tighter against him to share the warmth, and you sighed.  Thank you again.”

   “Sure thing.”  He yawned again, and you could tell he was already starting to drift.  “Is this a dream?”

   “I could ask you the same thing,” you replied.  “But no, I don’t think it is.”

   “Goodnight, ________.”

   “Goodnight, Wrecker.”

  Soon enough, the sound of his snores filled the room, and you were able to drift off to sleep again feeling warm and cozy.

[spacedikut]

my all ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary:  “hey could i do a fic request for an x spencer? could u maybe do something with really touchstarved spencer (bc germaphobia) and him being at first too awkward to go n cuddle and then as he gains more confidence he gets much more touchy and huggy and stuff? and reader being shocked by how cuddly he is? plzplzplz? its totally ok if u dont write it but just wanted to send in the request!” 2689 words

a/n: i hope i did this justice! i love spencer reid!!!!!!!!!

masterlist

Spencer first realised how much he loves your touch after a case where he put himself directly in danger.

You ran up, flung your arms around him and pulled him against you so tightly he felt winded.

He was shocked, stunned, and everything in between, but the most important thing is that he hugged back. It felt natural, the right thing to do, and his arms felt so snug and perfect around you his heart stuttered.

You pulled back, noticed his expression, and winced despite his reciprocation, “Sorry. I just. You could’ve died, you moron. You scared me.”

All he did was give you a breathless smile and with a squeeze of his shoulders you let go, allowing him to get checked by a medic.

Spencer struggled to sleep on the jet home, plagued by the thoughts of you - you with your arms around him, how much he enjoyed how it felt.

It felt… wrong to like it as much as he did. Like, in theory, enjoying your physical touch went against his moral code – as a germaphobe, the thought of having to come into contact with anyone in any way makes him want to vomit. But, with you?

You smelt so good, even after running for God knows how long. You were so soft, yet so firm, so warm and welcoming and dear God Spencer has never wanted to touch every inch of someone so bad in his life.

The case was a rough one, so Garcia was waiting for you all with loving eyes and a pitiful smile, arms wide open for whoever may need it. Spencer instantly decides no thanks, but you swoop in and cuddle up to Garcia within seconds of seeing her.

You even place a series of kisses against her cheek, and Spencer is transported back to your hug.

If he was more like Garcia, open to any form of love as long as it’s love, would you have kissed him like that?

His pulse quickens, palms get sweaty and he has to clear his throat to bring himself back to Earth.

He can’t afford to think like that.

But your lips…

No. Paperwork? Let’s do that and not think about a colleague’s lips.

+++

You’re furious.

You told Spencer to wait for backup, to not do anything stupid or irrational and definitely do NOT go in there alone, genius!

And what did he do?

He didn’t wait for backup, did something very stupid and irrational, and definitely went in alone.

And now he’s dealing with a hefty concussion and flurry of other injuries; cuts, scratches, and bruises alike all dotted over him like he’s a connect-the-dots drawing.

The second he wakes up, you’re gonna kill him.

For the time being, you’ll gently thread your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, and watch his chest rise and fall to ensure he’s alive and breathing.

“Mmm,” A groan, “That feels nice.”

His eyes flutter open. You lean towards the table next to him, pick up the bottle of water and the jello cup, and offer him both.

“Thanks,” He says, hoarsely.

You sit back in your chair. Spencer doesn’t take his eyes off you once. Not when he drinks the whole bottle of water, or when he cracks open the jello and inhales it with one slurp.

Your brows furrow.

“You’re banned from work until you’re fully healed.”

“I’m suspended?!” He guffaws.

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m personally telling you you’re not welcome back until you’re okay.”

“I’m okay now.”

“Do a backflip, genius.”

Spencer giggles, “I can’t do that in peak physical condition, Y/N.”

“Sounds like a cop out to me. So, again, you’re banned from work until you’re fully healed.”

He considers fighting back, but then he remembers what you were doing when he woke up, what he felt when he woke up.

He was confused and, you know, in pain, but there was this tender and soft, repetitive touch that immediately eased him. His subconscious knew it was you, in all your glory and sweetness, that had stayed with him for however long, looking after him even when he wasn’t conscious to know it.

So he just keeps staring at you, spoonful of jello in his mouth.

+++

When you get to Spencer’s place, he looks around like it’s his first time seeing it – awe and wonder painted on his face.

Everything he’s doing, everything he’s going through, you’re putting it all down to his concussion.

On the way here, he told you the whole history of car air fresheners after taking a good five seconds to get a good sniff of the cherry blossom scent you have.

“Let’s get you settled in, huh?” You say quietly, guiding Spencer to his bedroom. He walks a little like a mummy, kinda stumpy and heavy, and he flops on the bed.

You give a lopsided grin as you watch him. He’s mumbling incoherently, shuffling up to the top of his bed to fall flat on his back.

He moans.

“Alright, alright,” You placate, “Let me go… gather some things.”

You don’t know Spencer’s place all that well, so it takes you a while to find even the simplest things like a glass, a flannel, a snack. You get lost in snooping around, trying not to profile him, and the one thing you deduct is his apartment is so him. So Spencer, so lovely and comforting and a little odd.

You can’t get enough.

There’s a weak call from his bedroom: “Y/N?”

“Coming!”

He hasn’t moved an inch from where you left him. He looks so pitiful, bruised eyes and a cut right through his lip, and you almost coo at him.

“I’m not a good cook, so I thought we could order some food later.” You hand him the water and gesture for him to drink. “In the meantime, you need to rest. Mind if I borrow a book while I keep you company?”

You turn to leave, but Spencer’s voice makes you pause.

“Could you play with my hair again?”

A part of you wants to say no, like this is some overly intimate thing he’s asking, but then you remind yourself that he’s injured, which has reverted him to acting like a sleepy child.

“Please?” He looks at you with glassy eyes and he looks adorable, “Only for a little while.”

You say nothing, sliding into bed next to him. He scoots over a little to make more room for you, curling into you before your back hits the bed entirely. One hand rests above the covers, naturally placed on his arm, thumb smoothing him back and forth. The other, the one wrapped around his head, cards through his lightly tangled hair, all warm and loving.

He falls asleep instantly and, not long after, you fall asleep, too.

You both dream of eachother and wake up blushing.

+++

Spencer’s back in work within four days. You’re working a new case the second you arrive.

There’s been a shift in your dynamic and everyone’s noticed it. No one questions it, however, because they’re all aware you looked after him while he was away, and they witnessed how worried you were when you found him, but they can’t help but ogle and whisper.

They might be federal agents, but gossip is gossip and they love it.

You’ve noticed it, too, obviously. JJ tried to tease you about it, after Spencer bought you your favourite coffee and morning muffin on the way to the precinct, but you shut her down (and yourself from thinking about it too much) by reminding her you spent several days caring for him. He’s repaying you, even though you’ve told him he doesn’t need to.

Ever heard of transference, JJ?

A shiver runs through you as you look into the interrogation room. It’s not because of the suspect, though, it’s because the AC has been turned up – a tactic Hotch promises will be worth it despite your chattering teeth.

Something’s wrapped around you, suddenly, light but cosy and adds some heat to you that you need.

It’s a cardigan. Grey, much too big for you, the sleeves falling way beyond your arms and length reaching your mid-thigh. There’s a little red heart with eyes stitched on the left breast.

It’s Spencer’s.

“You’re shivering,” Spencer chastises, seemingly appearing from nowhere, “You know, when we shiver, it’s our bodies doing the opposite of sweating – it tightens the skin and shakes the muscles, a process that conserves and generates heat. We shiver to get warm. Do you not have a coat?”

“Alright, dad,” You tease, “It’s in the conference room. I wasn’t prepared for Hotch to make the unsub an icicle.”

Spencer breathes a laugh, moving closer to reach an arm around you. His other hand presses against your bicep, his grip sturdy as he vigorously rubs up and down your arms to generate heat.

Whoa.

It certainly works. You feel hot, suddenly, but not because of the cardigan or whatever the hell he’s doing, because Spencer has voluntarily touched you and is standing so close you feel like you’re on fire from the inside out. You’re sure your heart skips a beat and you stare at him in bewilderment.

He shrugs, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, “My mom used to do that for me when I was young and got cold. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

You give a shy smile, “Yeah, I appreciate it a lot, Spence. Thanks.”

When Hotch leaves the interrogation room, he half-halts when he sees you in Spencer’s cardigan. It’s the perfect Hotch reaction, combined with the rise of an eyebrow as he walks past you to reconvene with the team.

You don’t take it off when you all walk back to the conference room, and Spencer doesn’t ask for it back.

Everyone notices. A lot of eye contact is made with many questions silently asked.

You and Spencer pretend not to notice.

+++

There’s a knock on your door at precisely 10:12pm. You check because your first instinct is if I’m about to get robbed, I’m making sure the timestamps are correct.

It’s not a robber. It’s Spencer – frazzled, wrapped up all nice and warm like a pretty present, Spencer Reid.

His nose is slightly red from the biting cold outside.

Leaning against your doorframe, you say, “Hey there,”

“Hi,” He waves.

You stare for a couple of seconds, then remember the polite thing to do is invite him in: “Come in, come in! Do you want some tea? You look cold.”

“Coffee would be great, thank you.”

You move to your kitchen, not very far from your front door, but Spencer stays put and awkwardly glances around your place. He loves it, he decides. Very you.

You notice he hasn’t moved, “Make yourself comfortable, Spence. My cat is somewhere if you want to say hi.”

He slowly moves to your couch, removing his coat, scarf and satchel as he does it. Two drinks in hand, you join him and fling your fluffy sock-clad feet onto your coffee table.

“So what can I help you with?” You ask.

Spencer takes a sip of his burning drink, “What makes you think I want something?”

“Why else would you be here? You wanna watch Grey’s Anatomy with me?”

Spencer laughs lightly. You’re right. He’s here for a reason that isn’t to watch TV that he loves to correct with you.

He’s quiet, then, and does that thing where his tongue flicks out to lightly wet his lips in nervousness.

“Something’s been going on.” He starts, ambiguously, “And it’s left me asking a lot of questions.”

Your brows furrow. It’s not like Spencer to be cryptic like this.

“Did it mean anything?” He asks, finally, turning to look at you. “Any of it?”

“Did what mean anything?”

“The.. the playing with the hair, the over-all gentleness, the cuddling.”

Your shoulders tighten up and you hope he doesn’t notice.

He does.

“Spence,” You give a fake laugh, “You were hurt and I was comforting you. Looking after you. You know, like a friend does.”

“No one else did as much as you.”

“You wanted comfort, and I’m more than happy to provide that, Spence. Everyone else was busy.”

“You took time off for me.”

You don’t have an answer for that.

You’re trying to keep the conversation light and breezy to not show your true feelings. You’re not ready for that kind of conversation, but he’s right. You used your vacation days to stay with him and care for him.. and you know you didn’t do it platonically.

“You’re my friend, Spence,” You say, voice soft.

“That’s it? That’s all it was?” He doesn’t sound angry, or hurt, maybe peeved. He won’t look you in the eyes, though.

“What else would it be?”

Spencer scoffs.

He moves away from you, hands running through his hair in exasperation when he lets out a breath.

“We cuddled, Y/N. I haven’t done that with anyone in-in years! The last person was my mother when I was ten years old!”

“That’s supposed to mean something?!”

“I-I don’t know,” He sounds exhausted, as if the complications of his emotions are taking way too much energy out of him, “But I really liked it. And I really like you.”

You look at him, then, and he’s staring back. He looks… hopeful.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

You swallow deeply.

“I tried to show you with the uh, the cardigan thing,” He scratches the back of his neck, a laugh to mock himself leaving him, “But I’ve never been good with that stuff.”

He moves closer, shifting to face you, eyes remaining locked with yours.

“Say something.” He whispers.

“I-I-“ You stutter, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I’ve spent the last week thinking about it non-stop.”

“Really?” You laugh in disbelief.

“Yeah!” He gives a small smile, “I-uh.. wrote to my mom about you, too. She told me that if I’m this caught up on you, you must be special. Which you are, by the way.”

“I’m special?” You grin teasingly.

“Very special.”

There’s a moment where you think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he shyly asks, “Do you feel the same?”

You bite your lip. “I do. Really, I do. I’m just.. a little apprehensive, I guess.”

“Of what?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to you.”

God, he’s so infuriatingly sweet. You wish you could kiss him all over.

You might be able to, if all this goes well.

“I don’t want things to be weird if we don’t work out.” You admit, adding a shrug to appear casual. It’s not like you’ve worried about this since you realised you liked him.

Spencer tilts his head at you, “You’re already thinking about a breakup when we haven’t even gone on a first date?”

You giggle, which he returns with a smile, “I mean- I like you, Spence, and have for a while. I’ve thought about all outcomes.”

“All?”

You roll your eyes as he gives you a look, “Yes, all. I’d want us to work out but.. what if we don’t?”

He places a now warmed up hand on yours, “Well, we won’t know unless we try, right?” His hold tightens, “I’m willing to give it my all if you are.”

You look from your hands to his face, and decide yes, if there’s one risk you want to take in your life, it’s a risk that could possibly result in you spending the rest of your life with your favourite person on this planet.

So you nod.

“I’ll give you my all, and then some.”

He grins, “That’s quite the promise.”

You don’t reply, instead swinging your legs over his lap and leaning into his side to cuddle up to him. He reciprocates like it’s second nature, hand slipping from yours to wrap around your waist and tug you closer.

“Wanna watch Star Trek as a mini first date?” You look up at him through your eyelashes.

You really are perfect for me, Spencer thinks.

“Yes. Yes I do.”

[draco-spencers-paramour]

Love me like she loves you (part 2)

spencer reid x fem!reader (season 3 spencer)

tw: instant mentions of blood, violence. I apologise that it’s quite icky, hard hitting and upsetting so reader discretion is deeply advised. Angst, angst, angst (season 5 storyline)

You woke up with a fuzziness in your vision as reality blurred together before you. You felt a sharp pain on the side of your head and abdomen. You were absolutely freezing, covered in your own blood, surprised you were even alive from the amount of blood that you’d lost. It hit you like a truck. I’ve been kidnapped. The low voice chuckled as your eyes fluttered open weakly, ‘Ah sweetheart, you’re awake. Fantastic!’ You studied the face as you processed what was happening to you. ‘Who are you?’ you trailed off, slurring.

‘Who am i?’ he mocked your voice. ‘The names Robert. Nice to meet you.’ He put out his hand knowing you couldn’t shake it due to him typing you up ‘Oh yeah sorry I forgot I tied you up!’ He laughed. You could see the condensation from your breath ‘My team will be looking for me you know. I’m apart of the FBI.’ he tutted at you ‘As if I didn’t know that. It’s the best part of the show. I have access to all your social media accounts. They won’t look for you sweetie not until I’ve finished our first episode. But I promise they’ll know and see everything. I’ll take great care of you. You’re the star of the show.’ you grimaced ‘What do you mean the show?’ he gave a slimy grin before unveiling a sheet off of a live recording video camera.

‘Flash a smile it might your only chance.’ he grabbed your face and forced you to look at it. You pulled your face away and your teeth began to chatter. ‘Cold are we? Don’t worry you’ll warm up from our upcoming activities.’ You struggled in against the chair ‘Robert please this won’t help you. You don’t need to do this. What is it you want?’ he shook his head and smiled evilly ‘The problem is we are too similar. My viewers will be waiting and I cant disappoint them. Our similarities are what make us so different. And I hate it. I hate you.’

You were more confused than ever ‘How are we similar in any way Robert?’ he slapped your face ‘You don’t get to ask questions you stupid bitch. Just sit back and take what’s coming to you. Give us a good performance ok?’ You narrowed your eyes at him before he grabbed a pen knife and started scraping across your skin going deeper as he traced it up your leg. The pain began to sear in as he got to mid thigh and blood began to draw. You screamed for him to stop but he would not relent. ‘Well done! See you can follow instructions? My fans will enjoy that one and hopefully your little pathetic police friends will too.’ Tears spilled from your face as he kneeled down to your eye level ‘Don’t cry yet we’ve still got to film the rest of the episode.’ he smirked as you shook your head.

••••

‘She hasn’t responded in 24 hours. Just updated her facebook status to ‘on vacation.’ Spencer enquired as he looked through your social media from Garcia’s computer. ‘On vacation? She never mentioned she was going on holiday? And she never uses facebook. She literally hates social media she only uses it so I can send her cat videos’ Garcia bit her nails and continued ‘Reid I have a bad feeling about this.’ Spencer sighed and put his head in his hands ‘ I am the stupidest person on earth.’ Garcia scoffed ‘Only now you realise that? You may be book-smart Reid but you have the IQ of 10 when it comes to women.’

‘She loves me? How could I have not seen it? She’s so kind and sweet to me and she’s obviously immensely beautiful and...I’m a terrible person.’ Spencer admitted. Derek chuckled as he heard Reid ‘Right you are. Dude all you do is flirt with JJ, breaking Y/N’s cute little heart. She’s in love with you man. You can’t let a girl like her get away.’ Garcia shook her head ‘Well I think he just did. And I think we need to speak to Hotch and Gideon like now. I think- no- I know Y/N is in trouble. We need to get to her apartment asap. She hasn’t responded to any of our texts and calls and the only thing she has done, is updated her facebook status. Everyone knows that Y/N literally despises social media and never uses it.’

Derek furrowed his brows ‘What the hell are we still doing here then? Let’s go.’ Garcia debriefed Hotch and Emily in the back of the SUV as Derek and Spencer sat in the front. ‘I don’t flirt with JJ.’ Spencer said in a quiet whisper so that the people in the back couldn’t hear ‘Yes you do Pretty boy. Every time JJ is around you go straight to her.’ Derek shook his head. Spencer grimaced ‘She’s my best friend Derek and I’m her son’s godfather. When I talk to her, all we do is talk about Henry.’ Derek looked back at the road as he was driving ‘Y/N is your best friend too and to her it seems like every time you’re with her you always leave her, without warning and run off to JJ.’ before Spencer could respond, the team pulled up at your apartment ‘Her car is still there.’ he panicked. ‘Calm down Reid. If she is missing we’ll find her.’ Derek assured him. The team entered your apartment complex slowly and headed up, guns in hands. They got to your door and it was half open. They never expected to see what they saw as Emily pushed the door open. Your apartment, covered in blood.

Spencer froze in horror as they all entered the apartment ‘Check the rooms.’ Hotch shouted. ‘Clear.’ everybody said as they each went into every one. Spencer hurried back into the living room as the team gathered together. Hotch reached down and pressed his radio ‘I’d to file a kidnapping report. Victim is Agent Y/N Y/L/N. Send a forensic unit here stat.’ Spencer felt worse than he ever thought possible as his eyes became glassy. He climbed back into the SUV trying to calm himself down. ‘With that amount of blood she can’t possibly be alive.’ Emily said ‘Shutup Emily.’ Derek spat and gestured to a devastated Spencer. She surrendered and tightened her lips as she sinked back down into her seat.

••••

‘Stop please..please!’ you cried as robert cut a deep line for the 7th time up your leg. He slapped your face with the gun ‘And I keep telling you to shut up! But you won’t!’ you were in no condition to be alive. Yet you were. He only kept your t shirt and denim shorts on so that you would freeze. Your jumper had been discarded long ago and in its place cuts your arm that he had made that were still bleeding. ‘I might keep you alive for longer. My viewers seem to like you.’ Robert explained as he got notifications from people watching his torture snuff film. ‘Try not to die okay? Obviously it’s fine if you do. But just try.’

••••

The ride back to the BAU was silent just the sound of Hotch speaking to the rest of the team via radio about the information they’ve gathered so far. Once back in the office Hotch called for meeting in the conference room. Spencer sat there pale as a ghost. ‘We’ve a got a missing female under the BAU, Agent Y/N Y/L/N.’ everyone visibly gulped. Penelope entered the room in a silent sob heading straight to Derek. ‘Sshhh babygirl we’re gonna find her.’ penelope stood up and wiped her eyes ‘Theres something you guys need to see. I was just sent it.’ she said in a teary voice. The video played and it was an immediate clip of you tied to a chair. Spencer felt like he was gonna be sick as his face contorted into a painful expression.

The team watched on as you screamed for Robert to stop hurting you. By this point, he had cut multiple lines up your legs and arms and you were bleeding quite badly. Robert came up behind you and put the knife to your neck ‘Hope you all enjoyed the show! You’ll never find her. Now Y/N, is there anything you’d like to say before we finish the first episode? You have 3 seconds.’ you sat half conscious in the chair as robert pressed the knife harder against your neck you screamed out ‘I love you Spencer.’ and then the tape shut off. Everyone in the room was horrified at what they’d just witnessed. Spencer sat for at least a second before he broke down in tears. JJ came behind him and put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him, before he smacked it away ‘You.’ he stood up and spat at her.

JJ stared at him completely bewildered ‘What? Am I not allowed to be upset?’ she said wiping her own tears away ‘This is your fault Jenifer. If you would have kept your mouth shut Y/N wouldn’t have left the office early and she wouldn’t now be getting tortured by a psychopath.’ she pursed her lips and shook her head ‘I’m sorry Spencer but I still don’t understand how this is my fault.’ he shook his head ‘Because I love her! I’m in love with her Jenifer. It’s always been Y/N. I’ll never love you!’ he shouted before sinking to his knees and crying into his hands ‘Why didn’t I say it back as soon as she told me she loved me?’ Derek bent down to Spencer’s level and rubbed his arm ‘You were scared man. You had two women telling you the same thing. You didn’t wanna hurt anybody’s feelings Reid. You were being considerate.’

JJ put her hands in her pockets ‘Spence I am sorry okay? It wasn’t fair of me. Is there anything I can do to make up for it?’ Spencer shook his head ‘Find Y/N. But apart from that I think I’d like to stay away from you JJ. You’re right, what you did was not fair and made no sense. I’m confused and angry at you. So just please stay out my way.’ he said bluntly. She nodded ‘Okay. I will.’

Spencer stood up being pulled into a hug by Penelope ‘We’re gonna find her’ she whispered to Spencer. And he sure as hell hoped she was right.

that took me an embarrassingly long time to post i apologise so much thank you for waiting. God that was and emotional and scarring rollercoaster

taglist: @marvelfansworld @the-art-of-living-honestly @haylaansmi

[coldflame96]

Wrapped up in you

Summary: Sharing a scarf with your girl when you don’t like things around your neck is something that can be so personal..

Rating: T

Also found on AO3 and FF.net

Based off that picture in the very last scene with Kyoru sharing a scarf <3

“Wow!" He heard her gasp. "It's snowing!" But then she furrowed her brow. "But it was so mild this morning."

Neither of them had brought coats with them, but Tohru brought her scarf with the pom poms. She really loved that thing and it was cute.

"Kyo-kun," she grabbed his hand. "Are you cold?"

He didn't think he could ever truly be cold as long as she was around.

But he did shiver a bit. "A little. The temperature really dropped."

"Well here!" She took her scarf off, handing it to him. "Maybe this will help."

He knocked her head gently. "Then you'll get cold, dummy."

"I'll be okay!" She waved her arms. "I don't want you to get sick!"

He could tell this was gonna go nowhere fast. He rolled his eyes fondly and grabbed the scarf. She looked at him expectantly and he got an idea. It was cheesy, but knowing her, she'd probably love it.

He pulled her in closer, wrapping one end of the scarf around her neck, and the other end very loosely around his own.

"There." He said triumphantly, breath visible, "now neither of us have to be cold." He punctuated with a gentle whack with one of the poms and she giggled. He paused and then whacked her again. "Huh, this is kinda fun."

He was met with a whack on his own cheek with his girlfriend grinning impishly. "You're right, it is."

He gently whacked her again, this time pressing the pom right on top of her nose, shaking it as she tried to bat it away.

She tried to do a little twirl but the scarf wasnt quite long enough for that so she just did an awkward twist. The temperature was dropping by a lot and her nose was starting to turn red.

He leaned over to kiss it and she gave a questioning look.

He shrugged. "It looked cold."

She grabbed his hand, peeking at him from under her lashes. "I think my lips are cold too."

Subtle. He cradled her face and kissed her gently. "Better?"

"Still feels pretty cold."

He hummed, kissing her again. It was something he never really got tired of doing. She fisted her hands in his uniform jacket as he just kissed her slowly, careful to keep it chaste.

"Oi, lovebirds," he jumped when he felt a hand slap his back and saw Uotani to his side. She smirked. "When you're done being gross, you might wanna actually head home before you turn into snowmen." She put her arm over her head like a visor. "It's supposed to snow all night."

"Oh really?" Tohru asked. "I had work tonight."

She grunted. "So did I. But I called off. You should too."

She frowned. "I wouldn't wanna trouble them-"

He'd heard enough. "You're not walking to work in a blizzard. If you don't wanna call off, then just have Momiji do it for you. His dad owns the place."

She bit her lip. "I suppose…"

"Momiji Sohma is quite fond of you," Hanajima came out of nowhere. "I would imagine he wouldn't expect you to risk yourself in such weather."

"C'mon, we should go." Uotani said, wrapping an arm around Tohru's neck. "It's already cold and it’s only supposed to get worse."

She relented and he followed behind her closely, the scarf still hanging off his neck.

"Apparently we're supposed to get 15 cm," he heard Uotani say vaguely.

Tohru clapped her hands in excitement. "Really? Wow. We could play in the snow!"

"We could have a snowball fight." And then Uotani smirked. "Betcha I could beat Kyon."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't start a fight you can't finish, Yankee."

She snorted. "Yeah okay. You know your ‘bad boy’ image is ruined with that scarf around your neck."

He shrugged. It wasn't like he had anything to be embarrassed about.

Tohru was talking to Hanajima now about something, her face lit up. He smiled softly. She was happy and that's all he cared about.

The wind was really picking up and everyone in the group did a full-body shudder. It really was getting freezing and the snow was sinking into his clothes uncomfortably. Tohru was trying to hide it, but she was shivering. How did she manage to wear skirts in this kind of weather?

They parted ways with Uotani and Hanajima and no sooner than they rounded the corner, he wrapped his arms around Tohru's waist from behind.

"Are you cold?" He whispered.

She nodded. "Only a little."

He kissed her temple. "C'mon, let's get home."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they got into the doorway, her teeth were chattering and he rubbed her arms to try and warm her up.

"My, my, my," he heard Shigure say from the kitchen door and he looked up to see him standing there, looking way too amused. "I understand you kids are in love, but there is a time and place."

"Piss off," he snapped. "It's snowing and freezing outside."

"Well, that's why coats exist." He said smugly. "Honestly, Kyo-kun, do you not ever check the weather forecasts?

He was gonna punch this asshole. He felt a light tug on his shirt and he brought his attention back to his currently shivering girlfriend.

"D-do y-you m-m-m-mind if I shower first? I...c-can w-wait if you w-want to."

He pushed her back gently towards the bathroom. "Go shower before you get sick."

"O-okay."

It was once he heard the bathwater running that Shigure turned back to him, smirking. "Nice scarf." He gave him a flat look in response, which he took as a cue to continue talking. "Tsk, tsk, you made a rookie mistake just now."

"What are you talking about?" He asked on impulse, and then came to the conclusion that maybe he shouldn't have.

Shigure's grin only grew wider. "When a beautiful woman you're with is going to the shower, it's only natural you offer to join her."

Kyo grabbed him by the collar, growling, "Don’t talk about her like that, you fucking creep. I’ll kill you!”

"Scary~" And then something else seemed to come to him. "Where's Yuki-kun? Don't tell me you left him out there."

"How should I know? He was never even with us."

And that was when the phone rang. Shigure waved, saying "I'll let you handle that” and then went back to his own room, hopefully to die.

He scoffed. He didn't usually answer the phone but he had a good idea who it was.

"Hello?" He sighed out.

"Kyo?" Yuki's voice came through the speaker. He sounded surprised, which was fair.

"Yeah?"

"Where’s Honda-san?"

"In the shower.

"I see. when she gets out, tell her not to save me any dinner. The weather's getting bad so I went home with Kakeru."

"Fine. That it?"

"Yeah."

"Great. See ya."

"Wait."

"What?"

"You and Honda-san are alone...don't do anything stupid."

His face heated up. "Shigure's here, you jackass." He gritted. And probably eavesdropping. "And that's none of your business."

"Oh, he's actually home?"

"Yeah."

"My condolences."

"Whatever. Anything else?"

"No. You can hang up now."

And he was about to do just that but something paused him. "Oi."

"What?"

"You too," he mumbled through gritted teeth because he really didn't wanna think about Yuki doing anything like that. "Don’t do anything stupid."

A pause and then a "Thanks" before the line went dead.

"Oh, was that Yuki-kun?" He heard Tohru behind him, her skin flushed from the steam and her hair still damp. “Is he alright?”

He grunted in affirmation, trying not to look at how a stray water droplet ran down her neck. "He's fine. He's at Manabe's, so don't wait up for him on dinner."

She made to hug him, but then reeled back. "Kyo-kun, you need to get out of those wet clothes! You'll get sick."

If it were just them, he would suggest she help him with that, but Shigure was here and he was not gonna give him the satisfaction of that.

He patted her head. "I'm going."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Without work to go to, her and Kyo-kun took the night in. She had already changed into her sleepwear (which consisted of one of his shirts that was way too big on her and a pair of flannel pants).  

He had changed too, in a loose long-sleeve and a pair of sweatpants.

With Shigure-san here, they couldn't exactly do anything more than kiss, so they'd just ended up watching a movie.

He'd fallen asleep halfway through and was currently clinging to her, head on her chest.

She could really admire him without being questioned when he was asleep, how his nose wasn’t set completely straight, the smattering of light freckles on the bridge that were more pronounced in the summer.

She lightly stroked his strong jawline and his arms tightened around her waist.

She smiled to herself. He was such a cute sleeper. She lightly threaded her fingers through his fiery hair, noting how it curled around his ears now.

It's getting so long..

She heard her phone vibrate from the nightstand and strained to reach it without disturbing her sleeping boyfriend.

She saw the message was from Uo-chan and then shot up in alarm at the attachment.

She heard a light groan and saw Kyo-kun blearily blinking his eyes open and she felt a little guilty.

"Wha's goin' on?" He mumbled.

"Uo-chan just sent me something."

He hummed. "'Splains why you woke me up."

She was pretty sure he was being sarcastic based off the grumpy look on his face but paired with the messy hair, it didn't have much of an effect.

"Look at this." She shoved the phone under his nose and watched him squint as he put his own hand over hers.

It was a picture of them, sharing the scarf with snow falling around them. Neither of them were looking at the camera but she was chatting with Hana-chan, though the angle of the photo cut her poor friend off, and Kyo-kun just watched her, looking content.

He normally hated getting pictures taken so it was rare to see him so relaxed in one.

"Was this from today?" He asked.

"Yep! Uo-chan took it." Then she cocked her head. "I wonder how she managed to do it without us noticing."

He stretched, his shirt riding above his waist, which she attempted to steadfastly ignore for her own sanity.  

"Probably because I wasn't looking at her."

He always said things like that so easily and it was a marvel each time.

"I know you hate pictures," she started hesitantly, "but do you mind if I keep this one?"

"I don't mind pictures," he said softly. "Not with you, anyway."

She blushed, smiling to herself. "Right." She put one foot down on the carpet. "I'll go ask Shigure-san if I can borrow his printer."

A warm hand grabbed her wrist. "Do it tomorrow," he said. "It's late." And then he slumped on top of her. "I want my pillow back."

He was actually pouting and it was quite possibly one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen.  

She just stared at the picture of them, smiling softly, Kyo-kun’s chin on her shoulder.

"You look cute," he murmured.

"I look the same as always, don't I?"

"Yeah."

He was warm. Like a steady heater on her back. It made her feel sleepy.

At some point, she’d been gently coaxed on her back again, eyes heavy and her boyfriend a comforting weight on her chest. She managed to text Uo-chan a 'Thank you' through bleary eyes before letting sleep take her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, she bought a frame and added the picture to her shelf next to her mother and Kyo-kun’s beads.

“You’re such a sap,” he’d said when he walked in and saw it.

But he couldn’t hide how his eyes kept softening when they landed on it.

Not from her.